Drop the Boy
by kempokarate12
Summary: After their kiss, Santana knows she's the guy for Brittany. But she's not sure if Brittany feels the same way. Thankfully she gets a few 'helpful' pushes from the last person she'd ever expect. This is a continuation of Santana's Super Secret Surprise.
1. Heart Attacks Aren't So Bad

**Hello fellow FanFictioners! So good to be back. This here is a continuation of my Brittana chain of stories I got going on.**

**Alright, let me give you the rundown of what's happening: This is a sequel to "Santana's Super Secret Surprise". If you are just joining us now you might want to read that story so you understand any and all references I might make throughout this one. You probably won't necessarily need to, but it'll definitely help. **

**Anyway a few side notes. Artie is crazy out of character. I do have the intent to make him the bad guy. Why, you might ask? I'll tell you. I hate that Brittany is with him (( hopefully March 8****th**** will fix that! )) and I'm disgusted by how Naya is completely infatuated with Kevin. That is not okay in my book. Not okay at all. So I am taking my anger out here. Also, in my other story apparently I was able to get the characters of Brittany and Santana correct, but I'm terrified I blew that here. So I apologize for that.**

**The title is inspired by one of my favorite songs: "Drop the Girl" by Hit the Lights. It's a great song. You should listen to it so you understand why I chose it as a title. Just make sure you switch everything to boy, he, him, or whatever so it applies to Artie. Also, Heather Morris is totally in the music video! Woot woot! Coincidence? I think not! She totally knew I love that song so she was like "I _NEED_ to be in that video so I can make this girl happy!"**

**P.S. I totally stole the jello mold event from my own life. Please don't tell anyone! I don't want to get in trouble for plagerising or anything.

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Well, it was official: she was dying. Santana Lopez was in fact having a heart attack. Not like it was a big deal or anything. She had planned out her entire funeral at the age of twelve when she was pretty sure her grandmother's jello mold was going to kill her. Her parents knew exactly what flowers to place around her coffin and what jewelry she was to wear if ever the misfortunate event of her early demise were to occur. So if she wanted to collapse right then and there in the middle of the hallway and die she totally could. But, then again… she did want to set Artie's wheelchair on fire – preferably with him in it – before she croaked. Maybe she should try and hold out a little while longer. Just in case.

Santana fell heavily against the closest group of lockers in an effort to try and still her rapidly beating heart. Bending over so her upper body was supported by her knees, the Latina breathed in deeply through her nose, closing her eyes as she let the next batch of dizziness subside. Something was going on inside of her body and she didn't know what it was. All she knew was that this sick feeling had greeted her when she awoke in the morning, and that it had progressively been getting worse as the day went on. The Latina hadn't been able to listen to a single word that was said in any of her classes, because she was too busy focusing on _not _sharing her breakfast with the rest of the students. Although, she did have this strange feeling she volunteered to head the "Larpers Against Cruel and Unusual Punishment" Committee.

For most of the day Santana had been able to keep her extreme discomfort relatively under control. She only threw up two times and she didn't even ask to go see the nurse – what a trooper. But now with school coming to an end, and Glee rehearsal about to begin, her body was attacking itself with a vengeance.

As the brunette felt another wave of nausea slap her in the face, accompanied by an annoyingly cold sweat, Santana knew there was only one logical explanation for what was happening: She was having a heart attack. Her dad was a doctor for Christ sake; she read the pamphlets in his office! She remembered the diagrams! Too bad she couldn't remember what one was supposed to do in case one found themselves in this kind of situation. So she continued with her attempts to remain alive – breathing in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Out of nowhere Santana could hear a light tapping of footsteps grow increasingly louder as someone approached her trembling form.

"Hey. You okay?" a familiar voice called out.

"Why are you talking to me?" the keeled over girl snapped as the person stopped directly in front of her.

"Kay, fine. Just trying to be nice."

"Wait! Mercedes!" the brunette gave in, calling her back after she discovered the girl was continuing on with her walk. Opening her eyes but keeping her gaze fixated on the only non-moving object, the floor, Santana took in another ragged breath, "I'm having a heart attack."

"You said that last week when Figgins informed everyone that our shorts had to be as long as our fingers."

"I'm serious this time! What are you supposed to do when you can't feel your legs?"

"How should I know? ! Your dad's the doctor."

"God you're useless."

"See?" Mercedes raised her finger eliciting her best diva attitude. "_This_ is why I never want to help you," she scoffed as she turned to leave again.

Santana scrunched up her face, pinching the bridge of her nose tightly between her fingers. With a groan she pushed herself away from the lockers so her body was squared with the only help she had received that day.

"Stop! … Look. I'm sorry, okay? I am freaking out here. Just… please don't go. I need someone to call my time of death for me."

The Latina's voice sounded so defenseless, almost frightened, it stopped the ex cheerleader dead in her tracks. "What are you freaking out about?"

"Do you always have to be this nosy?" Santana immediately shot back angrily. When she saw Mercedes raise her eyebrows in warning, the brunette slowly expelled the breath she was holding through her nose in an effort to calm herself before she started speaking again. "I…they give me butterflies," she said quietly, suddenly finding her shoes to be very interesting at the moment.

As the tip of Santana's foot kicked the floor beneath her, she started to think that maybe she wasn't dying after all. Maybe all this was turning out to be just a bunch of nerves. But what was she nervous about? She was Santana Lopez! Santana Lopez doesn't get nervous. However, her incessant amount of shaking seemed to be telling her otherwise.

The diva snorted when she fully processed the smaller girl's remark, trying her best to conceal her laughter. "Butterflies huh? Feelings. Wow… did hell freeze over _already_?"

Santana's head snapped up to look at the girl in front of her. "Watch it Wheezy," her brown eyes narrowing defensively.

"Chill girl. I'm just playin'. Come on. Glee will make you feel better. You can sing about your new found feelings." Much to Santana's extreme discomfort and absolute horror, the diva wrapped her arm around the cheerleader and began leading them towards the choir room.

As the two girls ambled through the halls in pursuit of the rehearsal room, the Latina could feel the butterflies trying very hard to create a tornado inside her stomach. If it wasn't for the strong arm gripping her own body, Santana would have made a mad dash for the nearest bomb shelter, and lock herself inside, the second their destination came into view. Mercedes could feel the smaller girl plant her feet in order to brace herself against the gentle push through the open door.

"What is your problem? It is just Glee rehearsal."

"She has it. She actually has it with her! Son of a bitch, it's sitting on her lap!" The Latina's normally tan skin morphed into a deep red that would bring a tomato to tears, and her face took on the look of pure mortification, as she ducked behind a neighboring trash can.

Mercedes remained rooted to her spot in the middle of the doorway for she was completely taken aback by the sad sight before her.

"The hell…?" The diva regained her composure and marched over to the cowering girl, forcefully pulling her to her feet. "Okay, seriously? What is going on?"

Santana began pacing back and forth feverishly, wringing her hands together in the process. "I can't believe she brought it to school!"

"Brought _what_ to school? WHO are you talking about?"

The Latina didn't stop her pacing as she waved her arm in the direction of the Glee Club. Taking the gesture as an invitation to look, Mercedes leaned back and peered into the room. Nothing stood out to be blaringly different than what normally took place when everyone got together. Puck was slouched over in his chair tying his own shoelaces together. Rachel was warming up her vocal chords with a very displeased looking Brad. Tina and Mike were playing with one of those paper fortune teller things that no one seemed to know the name of. And Sam was flipping his hair seductively for an oddly amused Quinn. Mercedes wasn't sure what she was supposed to be looking at.

"What am I –"

"FRONT ROW!" the brunette proclaimed in a huff.

The diva furrowed her eyebrows as she glanced back into the room, trying to figure out what was so wrong. There was still nothing unusual about what she was being told to observe. Sitting in the front row, in their usual corner by the band, Brittany and Artie were deep in conversation. Well… _Artie_ was deep in conversation. Brittany was too busy petting a purple thing resting on her lap to be paying any attention to what the boy next to her was saying. The blonde was making zero attempts at hiding her utter lack of interest in whatever Artie was saying, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Who? Brittany?" Mercedes turned giving the pacing girl a look of pure confusion. "I don't get it. So she has a stuffed animal. What's the big deal?"

"The _big deal_ is that I gave her that stuffed animal yesterday! And she brought it with her today!"

"And…?" Mercedes circled her hands around each other trying to pull more information out of the flustered girl.

Santana ceased her motion so she was facing Mercedes. Her patience was wearing dangerously thin. "Okay. Focus. Yesterday Brittany and I hung out together for the entire day and I surprised her with a stuffed heffalump. I thought she was just going to place it at home with all her other stuffed animals and just leave it there. But here she is bringing it around in public! Is that supposed to mean something?"

"Yeah. It means she liked the present you gave her."

"But what if she doesn't? What if she only brought it to school so she could give it back to me? What if she hates it? Oh God! What if she hates _me_? ! What if she doesn't want to see me ever again? !"

As Mercedes stood watching the rambling cheerleader in front of her, something clicked. First butterflies, now _major _post gift jitters? Oh yeah. Something clicked inside Mercedes' brain alright. Dropping her chin and raising her eyebrow in accusation Mercedes whispered, "Wait… Do you like… have _feelings_ for Brittany?"

"NO!" Santana cried out a little too quickly, and a little too high pitch.

A knowing smile instantly crossed the divas face as she declared, "You do! You LOVE Brittany!"

"Will you keep your God damn voice down? !" The brunette hissed as she yanked the chuckling girl by the collar away from the door and towards her so that their noses were virtually touching. "Do you want the whole world to hear you? !"

"I knew it! You loooooove her!" Mercedes taunted.

"Stop! I do not _love_ Brittany, okay?"

"Does Brittany know that you love her?"

"I DON'T…" Santana paused to take a controlling breath making sure she didn't start screaming at the self proclaimed diva. When she realized there was no escape, and that she had to come up with an answer, Santana cringed, "I don't know. Maybe. I doubt it. But I mean… after I gave her the toy and she kissed me it definitely – "

"Whoa hold up! She _KISSED_ you? !" Mercedes shouted, completely thrown off guard.

"OH MY GOD!" the brunette threw her arms up in exasperation. "What did we _just_ discuss? ! You know what? Forget it. I'm done talking about this with you. And I'm not going in there. Thanks for your help," the sarcasm in her voice spitting through her teeth. She turned on her heel to storm off, but was quickly stopped by a hand grabbing her wrist.

"No you don't. Where do you think you're going? Your girlfriend is that way!" Mercedes proclaimed throwing her thumb over her shoulder.

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"Then go make her your girlfriend. Look. I love Artie. He is one of my best friends. But I will be the first person to tell you that that boy is _not_ boyfriend material. Kid is selfish, end of story. Brittany deserves way better. And for some insane reason, one that makes me question my morals, I think you can give that to her. So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna grow a pair and you're going to march in there and you're gonna go get your girl." Mercedes stepped around behind the smaller girl so she was pushing the brunette forward.

"But –" Santana tried to protest.

"No buts. Go you skinny bitch!"

With one last forceful shove from Mercedes, Santana found herself stumbling into the choir room. Straightening herself up and smoothing out her shirt, the Latina widened her brown eyes furiously at the girl casually taking a seat next to Tina. Hoping no one had paid any attention to her graceful entrance, Santana moved to go sit in her normal spot towards the back. But before she could get anywhere she was halted by an angry and deliberate clearing of the throat. When she turned towards the noise, Santana saw Mercedes pursing her lips together and jerking her head in the direction of the front row. The two girls had a silent war take place between them as their eyes fought for dominance. Knowing she was defeated, the cheerleader groaned and reluctantly went to go sit next to the Dutch girl – but not before presenting Mercedes with the double bird.

The brunette timidly made her way over to the couple sitting in the front, biting her thumb nail in a result of her anxiety. When the dancer spotted her best friend coming over, her blue eyes shone as she broke into an infectious smile she saved only for the Latina.

"Santana!" Brittany squealed cutting Artie off mid-sentence.

"Hey Britt!" Santana beamed fondly down at the sitting girl. When she looked over at the boy next to her friend her face became cold. "Artie."

"Santana."

Not noticing the tension that had wafted into the room, the blonde tugged on Santana's arm so the smaller girl was sitting in the chair next to her. Forgetting he was even present, Brittany turned sideways so her back was facing her boyfriend.

"Hey, San. Guess what I named him!" Brittany instructed holding up the heffalump.

"Uuummm… Jeffery."

"Nope. Otis Spunkmeyer. But you can call him Spunky."

"Well then. It is _very_ nice to meet you Spunky," Santana told the stuffed animal while shaking its hoof.

"Nice to meet you too," Brittany responded dropping her voice to sound like a man and hiding her face behind the animal.

The two girls erupted into a fit of giggles and didn't stop until they heard an annoyed cough coming from the other side of Brittany. The Dutch girl turned around slowly so she could face the disruption. She was met with a pair of eyes, eyes she never bothered to learn the color of, that were staring at her with what she figured was a shot at amused curiosity. However, it only reminded her of that evil doll movie she watched with her sister even though Santana told her she was never allowed to see it. Artie was giving Brittany the same look the doll gave you right before he killed you. Suddenly not wanting to be anywhere near her boyfriend, Brittany shifted backwards in her seat so that she was practically on top of the smaller girl.

"Yes Artie?" the blonde asked cautiously.

"I was just wondering… where did you get Spunky?"

"My knight in shining armor gave it to me."

Artie let out a chuckle, appearing as if he entered the end of a joke and didn't understand it but pretended to anyway. "I didn't give you that."

Brittany simply shrugged. "I know."

At that point Mr. Schuester walked into the room leaving no more room for conversation. Artie was left staring at his girlfriend bewildered, wondering what just happened. All he could do now was wait until rehearsal was over so he could question the blonde further.

Ignoring the gaping boy next to her, Brittany turned so she was facing the front of the room. After a few seconds of Mr. Schue's endless droning, Brittany plopped her head down onto the brunette's shoulder giving in to her sleepiness. The moment their bodies touched, Santana could feel her heart speed up so fast it was practically jumping out of her chest. Nope. No yeah. It was definitely official. Santana Lopez was without a doubt dying of a heart attack. It wasn't like it was a big deal or anything. Brittany had not only dissed Artie, but she had chosen to fall asleep against her tan shoulder. If Santana died this instant, she was pretty sure she would die a happy camper. She didn't care.

Bring it on cardiac arrest. Bring it on_. _

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**So what do you think? Yes? No? Yay? Nay? Continue? Stop the torture now?**

**I just realized Santana is CRAAAAZZZYYYY out of character here. She would never divulge her feelings to Mercedes like that. I would like to start my apology off by saying that I appreciate all of you as readers and I hope one day we can get passed this and be friends.**

**Also I was wondering how else to describe Mercedes and Artie. I don't want to be racist or rude or anything, but I don't want to say their names over and over again. Any suggestions?**


	2. Psychic Cheerleaders

***!*!* PLEASE READ! *!*!* Okay, check it out. I watched Silly Love Songs, and immediately thought of a little interaction between the characters after they verbally attacked Santana. I had originally thought of the scene involving a different character, but I couldn't put that in this story. So I ended up using Brittany because obviously she is the perfect choice for what was said. Anyway, know that she is out of character. But then again, I do think people act differently when they're genuinely pissed off. So, maybe she's not too far out there. Also. This story does NOT follow Silly Love Songs, or anything else chronologically. It's pretty much floating in a relative time around season 2. So I beg you not to look too deep into the timeline. Just know that I might pull some scenes out of the show and throw them into my story simply because I liked them, and thought I could do more with it. I'm well aware that I may have events pop up throughout my writing that happen extremely out of order with one another. Hopefully it doesn't throw you guys off too much.**

**Another thing. I know in the show they're not cheerleaders. But I have kept them as that because it gives me an extra way to describe them. Haha.**

**I would also just like to thank all of you guys who reviewed. Especially DaynaKelly, killercereal, ysubasson, and Cognitivism. You guys always make my day with your kind words. Haha. But seriously, thanks to EVERYONE! 12 reviews within 36 hours? That's the most reviews I've ever gotten for one sitting of a story. I was so touched. Considering how poorly chapter one was written… man. You guys spoil me!**

**Alright, on with the show!**

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Mr. Schue was talking, but Santana wasn't listening. And frankly, she didn't really care what he had to say. For all she knew he could have been sharing his plans of world domination with the help of his hair products. But based on the way he seemed to be flailing his arms around, Santana had a pretty good idea he was either going on about the choreography, Journey, or Journey's choreography. The Latina had tuned out the director's persistent yammering a few minutes ago when the group was stopped mid routine. She was too busy concentrating on the fact that a certain blonde was currently hanging from her back.

When Mr. Schue had told everyone to hold up for a second so he could talk at them, Santana had ended up on the middle level of the room and Brittany was on the highest level directly behind her. Before their teacher could even finish his first sentence, the small girl felt her knees slightly buckle underneath her when extra weight was abruptly added to her shoulders. Pale arms circled her collar and Santana could only imagine what position the already tall girl – who was given an extra two inches thanks to the level difference – had put herself in just so she could rest her chin on the crook of Santana's neck. The brunette smiled peacefully when she felt the steady rise and fall of the Dutch girl's chest against her own back fall evenly into place so their breaths were perfectly in sync with one another. It happened every time.

Santana's brain immediately switched into auto pilot and she began rocking her hips back and forth bringing the dancer along. As the two girls gently swayed together, Brittany took the opportunity to lightly blow into the Latina's right ear; an act she knew would make Santana develop a major case of the creepy-crawlies. And, naturally, the moment she felt warm breath tickle her skin, Santana instantly closed the gap between her ear and shoulder, pushing the Dutch girl's head away in the process. Wanting to give the brunette more goose bumps, Brittany tightened her grip around Santana's chest so she was trapped and blew into the newly exposed left ear. This only caused the Latina to squirm violently in an attempt to keep the taller girl from winning this battle. The two girls couldn't contain themselves for another second and it wasn't long before the cheerleader's laughter cut through Mr. Schue's speech causing him to look at the two disapprovingly.

"Brittany. Santana. Is there anything you guys would like to share with the rest of the group?"

The blonde let an explosive laugh escape her nose and she buried her head inside the mess of Santana's hair out of embarrassment.

"No. Not particularly." The Latina tried to come across as her normal, bitchy self but failed miserably. She had started cracking up all over again due to the fact that she could hear Brittany whispering an attempted insult, targeted at the man before them, into the base of her neck.

"Well, I would appreciate it if you two separated for one second and pay attention to what's going on."

"Got it Mr. Schue," Brittany nodded in confirmation. At that point she unwound her arms from Santana's body and held them above her head. "One Mississippi!" The cheerleader then re-placed her arms into their original position around the smaller girl. She smiled innocently down at her teacher, proud of herself for following directions.

The choir director hung his head realizing he had once again forgotten the blonde had a tendency to take things a little too literally. Running his palm across his face, Mr. Schue sighed, "Okay everyone. Take five. When we come back we'll talk about this week's assignment." With those words he went to hide in his conjoining office as he let the teenagers cool off.

Before the has-been superstar could get his entire thought out, Santana whipped her body around in a tight circle careful not to break the hold the Dutch girl had on her. Brown eyes immediately got lost in blue as the Latina - completely forgetting they were still standing in the middle of the choir room - reached up to brush an uncooperative strand of hair off of the uncharacteristically flushed face in front of her.

"Brittany Susan Pierce? Are you blushing?" Santana questioned teasingly.

"Ha! You wish." Brittany scrunched her nose at the smaller cheerleader.

The two left their conversation hanging comfortably above their heads and just stared at one another. They held each other's gaze until they were once more interrupted by the wheelchair clad boy.

"BRITTANY!" Artie called out a little too sharply, causing the blonde to jump. When she looked down at her boyfriend he was sporting that strange, unfamiliar, evil doll look again. "Can I talk to you for a sec please?"

"Um…sure." The blonde bit her lower lip flashing Santana an apologetic look.

The brunette stood rooted in her spot, absolutely dumfounded, as she watched her other half skip over to Artie and plop down on his lap. That should be her. _Why_ couldn't that be her? Why wasn't she the one Brittany cuddled with during school? Why did she have to be so concerned with her reputation that she was willing to push away the one person who was able to override her system? Why _can't_ sex be dating? Why, why, _WHY_? !

After a few more seconds of wallowing in self pity, Santana was literally pulled from her thoughts; suddenly finding her body being dragged across the room.

"OW! Can I _help_ you? !" the cheerleader snapped, yanking her forearm out of the obnoxiously tight grip it was in.

"Yes. You can tell me what the HELL was that? !" Mercedes yelled as quietly as she could.

"What are you talking about? I didn't do anything!"

"You're damn right you didn't do anything!" the diva scolded, getting louder with every second. "Why didn't you say anything when you had the chance? ! Brittany was practically _begging_ you to confess your undying love for her!"

Santana clamped her hand over Mercedes mouth with extreme force and nervously looked around the room trying to spot any eaves droppers. To her relief the rest of the group was too preoccupied with Finn's attempts to do the limbo under the double bass Puck and Sam were holding up. No one seemed to be paying any attention to the bickering girls in the corner.

"How many times do I have to tell you? !" The Latina spat through her clenched teeth. "Keep. Your voice. Down!"

"Here's the deal," Mercedes continued obviously ignoring Santana's request. "You need to show Brittany how much you love her before she gets tired of waiting. Girl can't hang around forever."

"Okay first of all, I'm not in love with her! So can you stop saying that? And second of all, I don't _do_ love. I do revenge. I enjoy destroying feelings, not expressing them."

Out of nowhere, and with absolutely no warning, Mercedes grabbed Santana firmly by the shoulders and gave her a good, hard shake. "Wake up and smell the roses you obtuse moron!"

Under normal circumstances, Mercedes would never have touched the Latina in any way, shape or form, or spoken to her in that manner. But given the situation, she was confident enough to do what she had to do. There was no question Mercedes was enjoying her position as an authoritative figure and she was taking full advantage of it. She liked being the person calling the shots for a change. It made her feel like the bitch in charge. Santana's completely bewildered expression was just an added bonus. "Let me tell you this nice and slow. You like Brittany. Brittany like you. You go tell Brittany how you feel. Or Artie win."

"Why are you so convinced that she likes me? I don't know if you've noticed this but she has a _boyfriend_!"

"Details," the diva shrugged.

"Plus! I don't want to be that pathetic idiot who makes everything up in their head only to get shot down."

Mercedes shook her head while rolling her eyes. "I can't believe – This is ridiculous... Brittany!" She called over the smaller girl's shoulder.

From her position on Artie's lap the blonde jumped for the second time that day. When she saw who was calling her name she smiled warmly, "What's up?"

"Santana wants to know if you like her."

The moment those words passed Mercedes' lips, Santana momentarily blacked out. Her brown eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets as she realized what was just said was said out loud – very loud. Her toned legs suddenly became too weak to hold her body up and she collapsed onto the nearest chair.

It also didn't help that Brittany's blue eyes sparkled as she smirked to herself. "Duh! She's my best friend!"

"Not what I'm talking about darling."

The dancer played with the break of Artie's wheelchair rather nonchalantly, her smirk getting bigger. She had known _exactly_ what the other girl was talking about the moment she spoke. "Can you please tell Santana we're not in middle school anymore? And that if she wants to talk to me she can't play monkey in the middle with my friends."

"Will do!" Mercedes look down at the mortified girl, "Brittany says you're not in middle school anymore and to talk to her yourself."

"I… you… wha… how… BITCH!" Santana stammered. It was a good thing she didn't have rabies because she was _fuming_.

"You're welcome buddy!" the diva patted the brunette on the back. This gesture only caused the cheerleader to retaliate and smack Mercedes' thigh as hard as she could. Thankfully, before they could get any more violent, Mr. Schuester walked back into the room.

"Alright everybody, take your seats," he announced on his way to the whiteboard.

Santana rose to her feet and got as close to Mercedes' face as humanly possible. "I fucking _hate_ you," she hissed, then turned around to walk back to her spot at the beginning of rehearsal in the front.

"Tell me something I _don't_ know!"

"You're adopted!" the Latina shot over her shoulder.

"Okay guys settle down." Mr. Schue picked up a red marker and wrote the word LOVE on the board drawing a heart around it. "I have a word for you."

Brittany's hand immediately shot into the air, "Is it love?" She looked over to flash Artie a proud smile. "Totally going to graduate now!"

Much to Brittany's disappointment her boyfriend didn't join in on her celebration. He nodded without even looking at her and went on listening to what was happening in the front of the room. On the outside Artie's actions didn't appear to faze the blonde. On the inside, however, she was crushed. There was a reason why Brittany seldom spoke up: she hated that crappy feeling she got whenever people ignored what she had to say. She understood that she thought differently than most people; she was well aware of that fact. What she didn't understand was why everyone always felt the need to call her out on her differences or use them as a punch line for their jokes. They all thought differently from Brittany, but you didn't see her belittling their inadequacies.

Brittany thought by getting Mr. Schue's answer correct it would make her boyfriend proud of her. Instead he shot her down and basically said she wasn't worth his time. She looked straight ahead as the first signs of a faltered smile appeared on her face. But before the blonde could get any more down on herself, she felt delicate fingers crawl between her own. She allowed her blue eyes to wander down to her hip, onto her hand, up the tan arm she was attached to, and into her favorite brown eyes. Santana presented Brittany with a reassuring grin and shook the hand she was holding for emphasis.

"Good job!" the Latina mouthed.

A thankful smile spread evenly across the dancer's face. Santana was always able to understand what she said, and never made her regret speaking up. That was why she usually turned into a chatterbox when it was just the two of them. Talking to Santana made her feel important.

She was also glad Santana never failed to see through her happy façade. Even if Brittany was jumping up and down cheering, the brunette always recognized when she was actually broken inside. It was a comforting piece of information for Brittany to know that she could simply blink and her best friend would immediately know how she was feeling. It was especially comforting now because it proved to her they still had a part of that psychic bond. Lately it seemed as if Santana wasn't able to read Brittany's mind as easily, or at all, like usual. The blonde had been slowly breaking by herself for weeks now as the pressing matter of the unknown future loomed over her; something the Latina wasn't the slightest bit aware of. Or if she was, she certainly wasn't showing it. Not only that, but Brittany had practically screamed, "I WANT TO BE _YOURS_!" when she had kissed the smaller girl the previous day. And yet here Santana was, acting like it had never happened.

The Dutch girl was so lost in her debate about whether Santana was still psychic or not, that she hadn't been paying any attention to the discussion around her. However, her ears perked up right away when she heard the girl next to her speak.

"No, not really."

Oh dear. Brittany knew that voice. That was Santana's "continue to push me and I _will_ end you" voice. The dancer knew that absolutely no good could come from this situation.

" 'Cause you always just seem to be meddling in everybody else's business."

_I'd stop right there if I were you Finn,_ the Dutch girl silently warned. She also wondered how the boy even got to be standing with Mr. Schue in the first place.

"Oh please. You guys love me! I keep it real and I'm hilarious."

_Oh no. She's about to snap_.

"Actually you're just a bitch," Lauren piped up.

_And she's gone_. Brittany could visibly see the anger inside the tiny girl reach a boiling point as she whipped around in her seat to stare down the offender.

"Okay, I'm sorry. You've just got eyes for my man!"

"Okay, first of all I'm not your man," Puck defended.

"Yeah, and Finn's right. All you ever do is insult us…"

The fact that Quinn jumped _right_ into the conversation did not go unnoticed by Brittany. The blonde could only sit in her seat with her jaw on the floor as everyone seemed to be hopping on the "Bash Santana" bandwagon. Her blue eyes remained glued onto the Latina as she watched her best friend's features contort from pure anger to genuine hurt. Brittany knew the words being spoken by the Glee club members were hitting Santana hard. Despite what anyone else thought, the brunette took what people said about her seriously. The dancer was confident Santana's self respect plummeted as she listened to the only people she thought would never insult her continue to beat her down. But any respect the Latina did have for herself completely disappeared when Rachel Berry decided to open her mouth.

"The truth is Santana, you can dish it out but you can't take it. Okay, maybe you're right. Maybe I am destined to play the lead role in the Broadway musical version of Willow. But the only job you're gonna have is working on a pole!"

As Rachel's words lingered in the air longer than anyone was comfortable with, Santana could feel the color quickly drain from her face. She swallowed with difficulty, trying to force the lump in her throat to go back down so she could say something, anything. Anything so she wasn't just sitting there like an idiot attempting not to cry. But as Santana's eyes began to prick around the edges she knew she needed to leave before she broke down in front of everyone. She had already let them insult her. There was no way she was going to let them see her turn into a blubbering mess. She certainly was not the most attractive crier in the world.

"Fine," she finally whispered. Grabbing her bag, Santana stood and left the room.

Brittany immediately moved to follow the fleeing girl, but was stopped by a firm hand gripping her elbow. She looked down at Artie shaking his head at her.

"Don't. She got what she deserved."

The blonde fell back on her seat not believing what she had just heard. It wasn't long before the rest of the room confirmed Artie's statement.

"He's right. Girl has done nothing but make our lives miserable ever since she showed up. She got what was coming to her." Tina agreed.

"Seriously, I don't know why you hang out with her Brittany. Santana has got to the biggest, most selfish bitch on the planet," Quinn inquired leaning over so she was looking at the blonde opposite her.

"Oh no. You're absolutely right," Brittany spoke up irritably, eliciting shocked expressions from the group. "I mean the other day she placed clues all around town so I could have a scavenger hunt because she _assumed_ I have always wanted to be a detective. Can you believe it? !" The Dutch girl shot a look at Puck who slid down in his seat unable to meet her gaze. Disappointed in the boy, Brittany continued on, letting the sarcasm in her voice pierce through the stunned silence. "And another time when I had to get blood drawn she forced the nurse to draw her blood first. She thought she had the ability decide whether or not the nurse did it correctly, otherwise she wasn't going to let her do it to me. But that's not all she does! Get this! Every single night at three a.m. she has the _audacity_ to walk to my house, sneak into my room and check on me to make sure I didn't have a nightmare. Oh but wait! It gets worse! If I do have a nightmare, not only does she refuse to leave until morning, but she'll actually hold me until I fall asleep. What a selfish bitch, right? !"

When she finished her angry outburst, Brittany stormed out of the room in pursuit of her best friend. The rest of the group, Mr. Schuester included, were left resembling eleven deer caught in the same headlights. Moments later Mike's voice was the first to break the awkwardness.

"So… Brittany knows what _audacity_ means… Anyone else surprised?"

Ten hands instantly shot up.

Outside the doorway Brittany came to an abrupt halt. She furiously looked both ways trying to figure out where Santana ran off to. Thankfully she didn't have to look very far. About halfway down the hall Brittany spotted the brown hair she would know anywhere sitting on a randomly placed step. Sprinting the remaining distance to her friend, the dancer threw herself onto the small girl, enveloping her in a death grip.

Somehow Santana knew Brittany was coming before she even heard her stampeding down the hallway. It was that psychic connection kicking in. She already had her arms wide open, waiting to be smothered by the blonde. The Latina clung desperately to the only person that was ever there for her as she let her emotions take over. She felt the impossibly strong arms wrap tighter around her slender frame when she let out a particularly loud sob.

"Don't cry! You're too pretty! Now your nose is gonna be all red," Brittany pouted.

When it came to comforting styles, Brittany and Santana were completely different. While the Latina was quiet, sweet and always knew exactly what to say to make Brittany feel better about herself, the Dutch girl chose a more comedic route knowing a good laugh always cheered Santana up. They would be the first to admit that it was a strange approach, but it worked for them.

"Ewww. Don't tell me that!" the brunette whined. She pushed herself off her friend so she was sitting up.

Brittany watched Santana wipe her nose with the back of her hand as she continued to let the tears fall freely down her cheeks. The blonde reached up and began running her fingers through the other girl's hair.

"Maybe try rocking back and forth. People do that in movies," she tried again in an effort to at least make the crying girl smile. Unfortunately it didn't seem to be working.

"No. Because I try to be really, really honest with people when I think… that they suck! You know? No one gets it." She said through her tears.

"I get it!" the dancer declared as she squeezed the Latina's chin between her fingers to make her listen.

The brunette pulled away shooting Brittany an obvious look, "Well I know _you_ do, ya crazy cat! You're the only one who does get me…" Santana trailed off, staring blankly into the space in front of her.

Brittany chewed on her bottom lip wishing she could help Santana more. So far she hadn't been able to make Santana smile, let alone laugh, and she was starting to doubt herself. This moment was definitely going down as her record for "Slowest Time It Took to Make Santana Happy". A record she was not happy to uphold.

After observing the Latina for a few more seconds, the blonde finally spoke up. "Yo!" she shoulder checked the girl to make brown eyes meet her own. "I used that new word you taught me."

"Ignoramus?" Santana was hoping Brittany would use that on Artie one day.

"No. Audacity."

"Yeah? When?"

"After you left the Glee room."

"Did you use it correctly?"

The dancer shrugged her shoulders matter-of-factly, "Pro'lly not."

"That's totally okay. Remember how I told you that using big words takes practice? You might not get it right the first time. I'm just proud that you used it!"

The cheerleaders smiled sincerely at each other for a little bit. Brittany was glad Santana appeared to be getting happier, but she was far from satisfied. She still had yet to make the small girl laugh. Guess it was time to pull out the big guns.

"Hey San? Did you ever blow bubbles as a kid?"

"Of course I did. Why?"

"Well, he's back in town and wants your new number."

The brunette gasped in horror pushing the other girl back. "You're such a poop face!"

"You're laughing," Brittany pointed out.

Low and behold, the brunette had erupted into a fit of giggles at the Dutch girl's little remark. Cutting of her laughter, but still keeping her smile, Santana stopped to admire the girl across from her.

"You're amazing, B. You always know how to make me feel a bajillion times better."

"Actually, I don't really know what I'm doing. I kinda just wing it."

" Then you 'wing it' splendidly…Hey, you wanna get out of here?"

"Definitely!" the blonde nodded enthusiastically.

The two friends linked pinkies and pushed themselves up off the ground. They walked quickly towards the nearest exit, careful to avoid any and all teachers, and took off running once they were outside. Neither one knew where they were headed, or what they were about to do. But what they did know was that some crazy shit was about to go down.

* * *

**So I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. **

**Please let me know what you thought! I appreciate any and all reviews.**

**Also, I'm sort of just writing this as I'm going. Which is different than "S.S.S.S", when I was always one or two chapters ahead of what I posted. So chapter three has yet to be written. Do you guys have any suggestions as to what the girls might be up to?**


	3. Stranger Who Looks Like You

**Alright. I totally wrote this entire chapter in one day, staying up until 5:30 in the morning to get it down. Now… I am exhausted. But come on now. Priorities people!**

**Anyway, I'm really sorry this is such a long chapter. There actually aren't not that many words. It's just filled with dialogue so it looks longer than it really is. I wanted to shorten it, but I didn't want to take any of this stuff out. So I hope it keeps your attention the entire time.**

**Now, I promised you crazy shit. I hope this shit is crazy enough for you guys!**

* * *

Santana's tan fingers clasped tightly to Brittany's pale ones as the two girls sprinted through the fairly empty streets of Lima. The cheerleaders had bolted out of McKinley High and didn't stop until they were two blocks away. Keeping to the shadows as best she could – which was impossible to do while running in the middle of the road – Santana led Brittany to a side alley in between two random buildings, using the separation from the main road as a hiding spot. Though they didn't really _need_ to hide, considering there was barely anyone else walking around. It was the middle of a work day and most people were trapped inside windowless cubicles. And although Santana knew hiding was a slightly over the top, it still made her feel a little dangerous. More so than usual.

When they finally came to a stop, the Latina slammed her back against the dumpster and leaned over onto her knees trying to catch her breath. As the brunette reproduced the same position she was in earlier that day, Brittany walked around in a circle with her hands resting on the top of her head.

"Phew!" the blonde puffed out. "That was fun. I feel like an escaped convict!"

Santana raised her eyes at the circling girl, lifting her brow in question. "Do you even know what that is?"

"Nope."

"Then how can you feel like one if you don't know what one is?"

Brittany ceased her motion and looked at the questioning cheerleader, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to think of a response. Not being able to come up with anything, the Dutch girl slumped down onto a flattened pile of cardboard boxes with a huff.

With her head hanging between her knees, Brittany spoke to the ground sadly, "Way to ruin my moment."

To anyone else, the dancer would have sounded legitimately upset. But, as always, Santana was able to see right through her disguise. Smiling to herself, the Latina jumped atop her friends back, making the taller girl bend farther forward.

"I'm sorry Brittany!" the Latina cooed in her ear.

"Get off of me you happy killer," the hunched over girl advised, her muffled voice coming through her legs.

"Brittaaaannnyyyyyyy!" the Santana whined like a toddler. "Don't be mad at me! I'll do ANYTHING!"

"You sound pathetic."

Digging her toes into the pavement, Santana straightened her legs out so that she was pushing all of her weight forward onto the blonde. "Please forgive me! Pretty please with a cherry on top a mountain of whipped cream with rainbow sprinkles! Puuuhhh-leeeeezzzzeeee!"

Brittany's nose was practically touching the ground with the extra load being applied to her upper body. It was very convenient that she was as flexible as she was. But that didn't mean she wasn't uncomfortable. When she felt her legs begin to tingle, Brittany decided it was probably a good time to end her angry charade.

"Fine. I forgive you. Now get off."

"Thank you!" Planting an intentionally wet kiss to the base of Brittany's neck, Santana rolled off of her friend so they were sitting next to each other. She started laughing as she watched the blonde scrunch her face and rub furiously at her moist skin.

"Calm down woman! I don't have cooties or anything."

"It's not cooties I'm worried about. It's the trolls. They can smell saliva. I don't want them to come and hurt me." This time she wasn't fooling around.

"I'm sorry! I forgot about the trolls!"

"It's okay. Now we're even."

Santana looked at the girl next to her and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "How are we even?"

Brittany focused her attention on the ground, her face suddenly attacked with guilt. When she spoke, her voice was barely audible. "I let Glee Club hurt you."

"Hey!" Santana announced sternly, trying to place her head in Brittany's line of sight. "That doesn't make us even. You didn't tell them to say those things. You have _nothing_ to be upset about"

The dancer whirled around so her blue eyes caught Santana's gaze. "But I didn't stop them either!"

The brunette bent her head forward giving Brittany a firm look. "It's. O. Kay. I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at them. You're not going to beat yourself up about something you had no control over. Understand?"

The cheerleaders held each other's eyes as Santana continued to silently tell Brittany everything was fine. But she knew the smaller girl was lying. Everything was _not_ fine. Santana may be able to fool everyone else with her bitchy exterior, but no matter how hard she tried she could never fool Brittany.

The dancer knew the words spoken to Santana earlier that day were eating away at her. It wasn't like those things had never been said to her before; they had been said countless times to the Latina's face. But this time they actually meant something. This time they were coming from the group that shared the same passion as she did. The same group she confessed to, saying that Glee was the best part of her day. Brittany knew hearing those comments being shot mercilessly around was slowly crushing her friend.

"What's the number?" the Dutch girl asked quietly.

Breaking their eye contact, the Latina slowly turned her body forward so she was staring at the brick wall in front of her. "Nine," she breathed out unevenly.

"_NINE_? ! That hurt more than the time the gorilla at the zoo refused to be your mother? !"

"You try having an entire room of people completely tear you down! People you thought were your friends. Trust me. It's a nine."

Brittany's blue eyes searched the solemn girl who was boring a hole through the wall with her glare, trying to come up with a way to comfort Santana effectively. She was just about to say something when she was distracted by what they were sitting on.

"Stand up," the dancer instructed, getting to her feet as well.

Santana stood without questioning Brittany's motives – as she did with most things – but that didn't mean she wasn't confused. She got even more confused as she watched the blonde slide a giant piece of cardboard off from the top of the pile they had been sitting on. Ignoring the puzzled look she was eliciting from her friend, Brittany opened up the cardboard so it was now a box without a top or bottom. She stepped over the edge to stand inside and she lifted the contraption up around her waist so it was like a massive belt.

"What are you _doing_?" the brunette laughed as Brittany began walking around the alley, her body completely encircled by the cardboard.

"I'm driving," Brittany answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh no. I don't think so!" The Latina walked over to the other girl and grabbed the side of the box to stop her from moving. "Get your skinny butt out of that driver's seat right now!"

"But I'm practicing!"

"You know my rule Britt. You can only practice driving when you're wearing the seatbelt I made for you. I do not want you crashing and flying out of this car."

"Pleeeaaassseee? !" It was Brittany's turn to whine.

"No!" Unfortunately for Brittany, when it came to Santana's safety guidelines, this was the only time she was truly ever able to say no to the taller girl. "We have been through this before. I have no problem going for a ride if you want to. But you have to let me drive. You're not getting hurt on my watch."

Rolling her eyes and groaning, Brittany stepped back to relinquish the driver's seat to Santana. Flashing the blonde a grateful smile, the Latina ducked under the side of the car she was holding and straightened up inside with her back towards Brittany. The air started doing that strange thinning thing it was doing the other day as the smaller girl felt Brittany's warm breath against her skin. Her heart stopped cooperating when the proximity of their bodies fully registered in Santana's mind.

Shaking her head to clear her racing thoughts, Santana craned her neck to look back at the girl behind her. "Where to?"

"I don't know. I'm hungry."

"Wendy's it is then!"

The drive to the fast food joint would have gone much quicker if their car was able to go faster than five miles an hour. But as it was, that was the speed the cheerleaders were set to. Normally they would have gone a little faster, but Santana was being extra cautious since Brittany didn't have her seatbelt on. Well, it wasn't so much of a seatbelt as it was Santana's old Brownie sash with two hooks on either side. Regardless of what it was made out of, it worked and Santana felt much more comfortable when the other girl was wearing it. She didn't want to risk tripping over a curb and having Brittany go smashing into the ground. So because the Dutch girl wasn't properly strapped in, five miles an hour was as fast as they were going.

When their destination ultimately came into view, the Latina brought them around back to the drive through. You can't actually be seen going _in_ to a fast food place! That was social suicide. But walking up to the drive through inside a cardboard box, pretending it was a car, was perfectly acceptable.

The two girls started jumping up and down by the intercom to trip the system to let someone know that they were there. They only had to wait a few seconds before a voice started talking on the other end.

"Welcome to Wendy's. How may I help you?"

"Yeah, his, I'd like a large number ten with two drinks. And a large Frosty with one spoon," Santana ordered.

"Kind of drinks?"

"Root beer and Fruit Punch Hi-C."

"Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Eight-fifty. Next window please."

The girls walked up to the designated spot and waited to get their food. When the woman came to the window she looked down at the girls annoyed.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"We're getting our food like you told us to. What are you blind?" Santana immediately bitched out, going straight into defensive mode.

"Why did you come to the drive through?"

"Because obviously we didn't want to get out of the car. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Yes, actually, I do. If you two want to be idiots do it on your own time and stop wasting mine. I'm trying to work."

"Then do your job and give us our damn food!"

By now both girls were at the end of their ropes. If someone didn't cave first, there was going to be blood.

"If you want your food you can either, go inside and pick it up or you can come back with a real car." Clearly she wasn't going to be the first one to back down.

"This _is_ a real car. See?"

Santana then made a point in lifting her right foot and pressing it back down on to the pavement. From her spot behind the Latina, Brittany mimicked a revving engine to the best of her ability. When the display was over, the cheerleaders smiled as innocently as they could up at the obnoxious woman. The only response they received was an overly dramatic eye roll.

"Look lady," Santana continued. "You don't want to mess with me. I once had a waitress fired at Breadstix just because she wouldn't fill my wheelbarrow up with their sticks of delicious heaven. I wonder what the corporate manager of this place would think when he finds out an employee refused to give a costumer their food. What do you think Brittany?"

"I don't think he'll be very happy." Brittany piped in.

"Me neither. But then again, I don't know. Should we test this theory and call him up? I do have legislation on speed dial."

The Latina reached in to her pocket to grab her phone, but was stopped by a loud grunt. The woman finally cracked and stormed away to get the girls their food. The Dutch girl took the opportunity to lean towards Santana and whisper in her ear.

"Saaaan! Ask her!"

"I will, hold on!" Santana shushed. She waited for the woman to come back and open the window before speaking up. "Britts wants one of those Peter Pan toys." Santana didn't give the woman any time to respond as she narrowed her eyes threateningly.

The ticked off worker snatched up the nearest toy and threw it into the bag making no effort to hide her aggravation. She practically shoved the food and tray of drinks to Santana who then passed them back to Brittany. Waving politely, Santana shot the woman her friendliest grin, "Thank you! Have a nice day!" she declared, rolling up her window and driving off.

No words were spoken between the two in regards to where they were headed now, but they both knew exactly where they were going to end up. They let their minds wander, allowing their legs to take over and carry them, and it wasn't long before their car was ditched on the side of the road and they were sitting on a massive stone beam underneath a bridge.

Correction. Not _a_ bridge. _Their_ bridge. Their special, "Feel Better" place. Any time one of them was upset about something they would always come here and just sit together. The gently flowing water below never failed to calm them down long enough to talk about what was on their mind. The bridge's magic healing powers had worked countless times in the past, and Santana was praying it would work again today. She hoped bringing Brittany here would soothe the blonde so that she would finally be able to open up about what was bothering her. The Latina had been noticing Brittany wasn't acting like her happy-go-lucky self lately. Sure the dancer never stopped smiling at everything, but Santana wasn't looking at her mouth. She was looking at her eyes. There was always this very slight, very quick, flicker of fear that invaded Brittany's baby blues. It would come and go faster than you could blink, but Santana caught it every single time.

The brunette never loathed anything more than she did this alien emotion taking over her best friend's body. Santana wanted to chase it away and make sure it never returned. She just wanted her Brittany back. She wanted the girl who would tell her stories about how an Eskimo befriended a fox and together they invented the world's best ice cream flavor. Not the girl who was currently dipping a handful of fries into the Frosty with the light completely gone from her eyes. Santana knew she had to save her friend before it was too late. Before she lost Brittany to her own mind for good.

On the other side of things, Brittany knew precisely why Santana had brought them here. She knew the smaller girl was worried about her and wanted to figure out what was wrong, but she wasn't ready. She couldn't bring herself to come clean about what really happened at the water tower yesterday, or what has been happening since, as well as leading up to that point. She couldn't say anything because she was afraid of what Santana's reaction would be.

The Dutch girl's skin started to itch as she felt a pair of eyes surveying her body. She refused to look at the girl next to her, even when a timid voice broke the silence between them.

"Hey B? Can I ask you something?"

"I guess," Brittany shrugged reaching into the bag, knowing what the question was before Santana opened her mouth. She pulled out the toy as an excuse to avoid the apprehensive brown eyes that were looking into her soul. If she looked at Santana, she knew the smaller girl would instantly be able to read her mind and she couldn't have that. Pulling the toy out Brittany saw she received a section of Captain Hook's ship and discovered that if she pressed a button, the octopus from the second movie would pop out from underneath the deck. This was doubly exciting because not only was it the coolest thing she's ever seen, but now it gave her something to do with her hands.

As Brittany continuously pressed the button and pushed the octopus back down, Santana cleared her throat so she was able to talk.

"Is everything okay with you?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"You sure? Cause you haven't been acting like yourself lately."

"Yes I have." Her tone had this strange sharpness to it that neither girl was used to.

"No, you haven't," Santana argued. She made a conscious effort to keep her voice perfectly calm so as not to alarm the guarded girl. Though that was proving to be extremely difficult with Brittany focused solely on her new toy. But she knew she had to try. Especially if she wanted to bring up the previous day's events and live to tell about it. "What happened yesterday… at the water tower? That wasn't you. That was a stranger inside my best friend's body. And it scared me. Please. Just tell me what's going on."

"Nothing is going on."

"Then why did you freak out yesterday?"

"I don't want to talk about that right now!" the blonde snapped, making Santana recoil a little. Brittany _never_ got mad. That wasn't something she even knew how to do. And yet here she was, yelling and acting insanely defensive. Who was this person? The Latina didn't know who she was looking at anymore.

With her last outburst, Brittany finally stopped pushing the octopus up and down. Now she was just staring at it with a hard expression on her face.

"Brittany, what is wrong? ! Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it! We don't do secrets. We tell each other everything."

"I am telling you everything."

"You're lying!" the brunette had stopped trying to hide the aggravation in her voice. "Can you look at me? … _Brittany!_ Will you please just look at me for like _one_ second? !"

"No," the dancer furrowed her eyebrows at the toy.

"Why not? !"

"Because I'm having a staring contest with the octopus and I have to win. So cool your horses."

Knowing she was at a loss, Santana shut her gaping mouth and watched the competition patiently. After a few more seconds, with her eyes still trained on the non-blinking object, the dancer brought her hand up above the toy and slammed her palm down on top of the octopus, pushing it back into the ship. She finally looked over at the girl next to her. This time she was smiling.

"I won!" she declared.

"Congratulations! … _Now_ will you please talk to me?"

"Santana… right now I just want to forget about what happened at the water tower and enjoy my day with you. Alright?" Brittany pleaded.

The brunette slowly nodded her head in understanding. "Yeah… okay. I'm sorry. What would you like to do now?"

As the cheerleaders thought of their next activity, the same smiles flashed across their faces simultaneously. Grabbing each other's hands, and forgetting the food, the two jumped up and ran to the nearest store. It was moments like these they loved being able to read each other's mind. With one look they had just planned out the next few hours of their day. Being psychic was definitely a real time saver.

Before anyone could say "Okeechobee", the two girls were dumping boxes upon boxes of condoms on the register's counter at Lima's General Store. They had run in, snatched up as many boxes as they could and stumbled over to the checkout line; dropping a few in the process. After relinquishing their arms of the many condom boxes, Brittany took off declaring she would be right back. When she returned, she was clutching a giant, blue foam cowboy hat and neon green clown glasses in one hand, and a black due rag and a leather vest in the other. Placing her items onto the counter, Brittany beamed at the smaller girl.

"What are _those_ for? !" Santana asked bewildered.

"We can't have a war without battle outfits!"

"So you chose… this?" The Latina held up the skimpy vest, unsure of its purpose.

"Well, yeah! I'm the cowboy and you're the gangster."

"How come _I_ have to wear the stripper outfit?"

The blonde shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, "Because. You look super hot in leather." Her blue eyes moved seductively from Santana to the boy at the cash register as she began telling him about their battle plans.

As much as the brunette wanted to, she wasn't paying any attention to the exchange going on next to her. Her heart had started attacking itself again. What was that? The third time today? It seriously has got to stop doing that! She definitely needed to go see a doctor. Santana could feel the edges of her ears flare up and she was pretty sure she had let out a strangled moan.

_Brittany just admitted she thinks I look hot in leather. Oh… my…_.

"San? Santana? !" Brittany's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Do you have money? I'd pay but I left my stuff at school."

"I wouldn't let you pay anyway," Santana said as she handed the boy a fifty. "You never have to spend anything when you're with me. You know that."

The cashier smirked at the girls in front of him, "Well. Some man is going to get extremely lucky tonight!"

"Oh no!" the Dutch girl announced. "Santana's not a boy!"

"Wait… you mean to tell me all these condoms are for you two?"

"Of course! What else would I mean?"

"So you guys are like… girlfriend… _girlfriend_?" he asked bewildered.

Santana immediately held up her hands in defense. "Oh no. We're not-" but she was stopped by the Dutch girl wrapping her arm around her shoulders.

"Yup! Ain't that right pumpkin pooh?"

The smaller girl laughed awkwardly and snatched up their purchases, not even bothering with the change. Seizing the dancer's noticeably toned upper arm, Santana bolted to the restroom at the back of the store. Once inside, she released Brittany and ran her now free hand through her hair.

"Oh my God! I cannot believe you told that guy we were a couple!"

The blonde reached into the bag Santana was holding and pulled out a box of condoms. As she opened it up she walked over to the sink and turned the faucet on. Holding a condom underneath the running water, Brittany looked at her friend through the mirror and winked. "You know you loved it. Don't lie."

Copying the Dutch girl's actions, Santana stood in front of the sink neighboring Brittany's and stuck her tongue out. "I never said I didn't love it. You did… So? Who's the liar now? Hmmm…?"

The Latina playfully shoved the girl next to her before holding a condom underneath her faucet. The cheerleaders developed a system by filling a condom up, tying it, putting it in an empty sink, and moving on to the next one. They worked very diligently at the task presented to them. Well… no. That's a lie. _Santana_ worked diligently. Brittany was too preoccupied with flicking water at the brunette every chance she got.

"Yo!" Santana hollered stepping back, but keeping her hands over the sink, when Brittany full out palm splashed her. "Water goes in the condoms! Not on Santana!"

"Oops," Brittany covered her mouth with her hand feigning an apology. "My bad."

"Yeah. Oops is right."

The two girls continued filling up as many condoms as they could, laughing and joking the entire time. They suddenly heard the door open and they used the mirror to watch an unsuspecting woman walk into the bathroom. The innocent bystander stopped in her tracks taking in the sight before her: two giggling high school girls – one slightly wetter than the other – and all four sinks filled with water balloon condoms.

"What in heaven's name…?"

Santana whirled around so she was eyeballing the intruder. "Stop staring! How would _you_ like it if someone gawked at you because you had abandonment issues?"

"Abandonment? !" the woman asked startled.

"Yes. Abandonment." The brunette shook her head sadly while pressing a palm to her chest. "Brittany here… well, mother abandoned her when she was just a little baby. Can you imagine that? ! Growing up without a mom to breast feed you? It's ungodly!" From beside her, Santana could hear Brittany start to sniffle and saw her hang her head in shame. She stepped closer and began rubbing her hand along the dancer's back. _That's my girl._ "She was so traumatized as an infant that now she can't drink _anything_ unless it comes from something that resembles a breast!"

"Oh you poor thing! How absolutely horrible!"

"Yes. It is tragic isn't it? What kind of mother would abandon their own child? !"

"Some people shouldn't be allowed to live in this world." The woman walked forward and placed a hand on Brittany's shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. "You just hang in there kiddo. Keep your spirit up."

Brittany nodded sadly, making sure to produce an extra snotty whimper. "I will. Thank you."

"I'll leave you two alone. Good luck sweetie." The kind lady patted Brittany one last time before walking out of the bathroom.

The moment the door shut, and the two girls were alone once more, they high fived each other proudly.

"And the Oscar, for outstanding actress in a 'Deceive a Stranger' production goes to… Brittany S. Pierce!" the Latina announced.

"Thank you, thank you!" the Dutch girl bowed. "I'll be here 'til Thursday!"

Brittany and Santana erupted into a fit of hysterics, falling into one another as their bodies shook with laughter. The brunette wiped the tears from her eyes and looked back at the sink. Her laughter suddenly died down but her smile never broke.

"Damn."

"What? Brittany asked wiping her own eyes.

"How are we going to get all of these condoms out of here? We can't just carry them."

The blonde looked around the room and spotted an unaccompanied custodian's cart in the far corner. She walked over and wheeled it back next to Santana.

"We can use this."

"Brittany. We can't just _steal_ a custodian's cart! That's how they do their job."

"We're not stealing it. We're _borrowing_ it. Besides, we can leave everything and just take the cart. That way they can still clean up poop." Brittany reasoned as she already began emptying the bin of excess material.

Santana chuckled to herself placing their make-shift water balloons into the now empty cart. "You know. For someone who doesn't know what a convict is, you sure do act like one."

"I try."

The cheerleaders finished loading up the cart and cracked the door open to try and plan their get-away maneuver. Thankfully, as luck would have it, one of the customers had dropped a gallon of milk and its contents had spilled everywhere. And apparently it takes the store's entire population to clean up a little mess. So while everyone was distracted by the embarrassed shopper, Brittany and Santana were able to sneak out of the store unnoticed.

If anyone had been driving around at 11:30 in the morning, they would have seen two enthusiastic girls pushing a bright yellow cart in the direction of the old, abandoned warehouse. This specific warehouse had been the location of many other epic battles between the two in the past. It also happened to be the building Patches declared as his humble abode. Though that little fact was up for debate. Abode? You could say that. Humble? Not so much. Luckily, years of experience had taught the girls that Patches enjoyed stalking the library parking lot between the hours of 10 and 1. So, as Brittany and Santana ducked behind a loose board where a door should have been, they knew they didn't have to worry about an angry homeless man destroying their fun.

The Latina pushed the condom filled cart into the middle of the empty room and once it was settled, the dancer pulled out her outfit. Putting the giant hat and glasses on she struck a pose at the smaller girl, making her best kissy face. As the goofy cowboy showed off her outfit, Santana pretended to snap pictures of her. When Brittany was done auditioning for America's Next Top Model, she handed Santana her costume.

"I still don't see why _I_ have to wear the stripper outfit," Santana whined.

"I already told you. You look hot in leather. Now put it on and stop complaining."

"Fine," the smaller girl groaned, reluctantly putting on the skimpy vest. It wasn't that she was uncomfortable wearing this particular outfit in front of her friend. She had worn much less in much more public places before. So that wasn't the issue. What Santana had an issue with was knowing if she was wearing it that meant Brittany wasn't. And she really wanted to see the dancer's perfectly sculpted abs cling to the sheer fabric. She wanted to see the taller girl look bad ass in that gangster due rag. She wanted to see –

"OKAY!" Brittany shouted clapping her hands together, ceasing the brunette's thoughts from going any dirtier. She began marching to and fro in front of Santana, acting like a drill sergeant. "Rules of the battle: You have thirty seconds to hide. You can have as many bombs as you can carry at once. There will be absolutely _NO_ puppy guarding of the cart and head shots count. When there are no more bombs left, the wettest person is the loser. Got it soldier? !"

"Aye aye Captain!" Santana saluted.

"Fantastic. Oh… and one more thing." The Dutch girl stopped so she was staring deeply into brown eyes. Her own blue eyes sparkled and she was sporting a very mischievous smirk. "Loser has to kiss the winner."

Santana's heart skipped a beat as she registered what Brittany just said. "Wai – What?" she stammered, not believing if she even heard correctly.

But Brittany never answered her. Instead she turned on her heel and bolted away calling over her shoulder, "THIRTY SECONDS STARTS NOW!"

And so the battle began.

The cheerleaders bounded through the building hiding behind poles, popping out of crates and chucking condoms at one another. When one of them ran out of ammunition they would creep up to the cart, grab more balloons and take off running again. The empty warehouse echoed with victory warrior cries and girly squeals when they hit their target.

While she sprinted to her next hiding spot, Santana couldn't help feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Hearing Brittany's laughter travel through the walls was like music to her ears. In this moment, decked out in a foam cowboy hat and oversized glasses, the Dutch girl was acting more like herself than she had been in a really long time. Santana had missed this Brittany tremendously and she was glad there was still a part of her left. Leaning against a pillar and peaking around the side, ready to strike, the Latina was incredibly grateful she was here to witness this marvel.

On the opposite end of the building, Brittany cautiously walked up to the cart and scanned her surroundings. Satisfied that the brunette wasn't anywhere near her, Brittany reached down and grabbed the remaining water balloons. Cradling the condom bombs in her arm, the blonde took her hat off with her free hand. She then broke each condom individually over the top of her head, making sure she was completely drenched. There was no _way_ she was going to let Santana lose this battle. That just was not an option.

Waiting a few more seconds to ensure that she was soaked through, Brittany cupped her hands over her mouth, "SANTANA!" she yelled. "War's over! We're out of bombs!"

"How do I know you're not lying just to get me to come out so you can attack me?" An unseen voice called out.

"Because that's cheating! I don't cheat. You do!"

"… True!" the Latina ultimately came out of her hiding spot and made her way over to her friend. She started laughing when she was close enough to get a better look at Brittany. "You look like you just got thrown into a pool."

"Yup. And you don't. Guess that means I lost," the dancer shrugged, trying not to show her excitement.

Santana swallowed hard, licking her lips, as Brittany winked and took one giant step to close the gap between them. How she loved the blonde's winks. It took all of Santana's will power not to start drooling when she looked the girl in front of her up and down. The way her dripping, blonde hair clung to her face and how her bra could be seen through her shirt was just… perfect. The smaller girl had to remind herself how to breathe as Brittany slowly leaned in to seal the deal.

Right before their lips were about to touch, the Dutch girl straightened up abruptly and tapped her mouth thoughtfully. "Would this be right? We decided that I don't cheat. And kissing you would be cheating," she teased. "Oh… who cares? What Artie doesn't know won't hurt him."

Once again the taller girl leaned in towards her friend, and once again she pulled away at the last second. "HOWEVER! _I_ would know I cheated! Could I be able to live with that guilt for the rest of my life? !" Brittany furrowed her eyebrows, appearing to be deep in concentration. "Hmmm… Yup! I think I can."

Brittany latched on to the stomach of Santana's shirt and pulled their bodies close. Their lips were only a hairline apart when the door next to them banged open without any prior warning. The cheerleaders jumped a mile and turned to face Patches.

"What the hell are you two doing in my house? !" he barked.

"Cleaning," the blonde patted the cart next to her. "We thought you'd be at the library."

"I was. But I developed a mighty fierce craving for Spaghetti O's. Came back to have some. Now finish up your cleaning and get out! … But leave the cart."

"Sure thing Patches," Brittany said to the man going into the other room. When he was out of sight, she looked back into the most beautiful brown eyes in the entire world. "Now. Where were we?" she asked Santana, leaning in once more.

"I think we were… right… about…" But before the Latina could finish her thought her ring tone started blaring through the room.

Santana groaned, completely pissed off at the second interruption, and answered her phone.

"¿Qué? !" She shouted into the receiver. "¡Mamá, estoy ocupado! … ¿Puede esperar? … Yo estoy con Brittany … ¿Por qué? … ¡A nadie le gusta la abuela de todas formas! … Muy bien, estaré en casa un minuto." With one last huff she slammed her phone shut.

"Everything okay?" Brittany asked nervously.

"Ugh, yeah. My stupid Grandmother wants us to come over for dinner. My mom is making me come home to get ready."

"Oh… okay…" Brittany pouted. "I'll see you later."

"What? ! No. I'm not leaving you yet. I have to walk you home first."

"No you don't. Your mom will _kill_ you if you're late. I can get home by myself. I just follow the tracks until I get to the gas station. Then I take a right and keep going until I see my house."

"And…?"

"And I don't talk to anyone I don't know. Even police officers because you said they might be rapists in disguise."

"Exactly." Santana looked skeptically at the taller girl for a while before deciding she could get home on her own. "Okay, fine. Just this once. But you need to call me the _second_ you get home. Or if there are any problems along the way. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Okay come here," Santana embraced the blonde in a quick hug. "I love you B."

"I love you too S."

"Alright, let's get going."

The cheerleaders left the building and took off in separate directions. Brittany skipped all the way home with an enormous smile plastered across her face. She yet again had the perfect time of her life with Santana. They were able to make the best out of any situation. Something that she wasn't able to do with Artie. He was always so stuck up and serious. He never wanted to do something on a whim, or run around town causing mayhem, or do anything that could get him in trouble. Santana wasn't afraid of any of that. She would do anything as long as it made Brittany happy. Even if she hated it herself. Glee club didn't know what the hell they were talking about.

Thinking about Santana on her walk, the Dutch girl found herself home in no time. She was about to call the Latina like she had promised when she was stopped by the figure on her porch.

"Artie… hey…"

Why was he wearing that evil look again? Is this a new fashion trend Brittany didn't know about?

"Brittany. We need to talk."

* * *

**And there you have it. Sorry for leaving it that way! Big Artie chapter coming up. I hope you guys hate him as much as I do! Boy is going to be a _douche!_**

**I hope Brittany and Santana aren't too out of character. They're so hard to write!**

**Also, what interaction did you like best between the two? I'd like to know so that way I can incorporate stuff similar to what you like in later chapters. Cause right now I'm just throwing things out there.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Go On and Kiss the Girl

**Wow. This chapter was definitely the hardest for me to write.**

**I must apologize for making you read what you're about to read. Not only do I think it's written poorly, but I feel awful making you read the things Artie says and how Brittany reacts. But I think it's important for her character, and I feel like it's something she would do. If it's any consolation I hated putting her through what she's about to go through.**

**Also, this chapter mostly deals with inner dialogue and simple movement. Especially in the middle section. Not a lot of words are spoken later on and you'll see why once you get there.**

**I know some of you were hoping Artie was going to go down in this chapter. But don't worry. That's coming next. ^_^ Mind twin I hope you're not mad at me! Haha**

* * *

She couldn't look up. She couldn't do it. She kept her face shielded by the giant cowboy hat still sitting atop her head as she scuffed the pavement beneath her feet. Her arms were bent in front of her stomach and she casually fiddled with the sliding part of her phone. It wasn't like Brittany was purposefully ignoring the boy sitting on her porch. She was literally _afraid_ to meet her boyfriend's gaze. As he stared down at her, his face was normal but his eyes were wrong. The blonde noticed there was something in them that she wasn't used to. She couldn't quite put her finger on what that something was, but she knew it definitely wasn't something good.

Man… if looks could kill…

The two remained frozen in the same position for what seemed like an eternity. Brittany with her head tilted towards the ground and Artie with his hands folded neatly on his lap. After a few more anxious seconds, Artie's voice penetrated the tension filled silence.

"Where have you been?"

"Around…" Brittany didn't understand why he always needed to know what she was doing all the time.

"What were you doing that you needed to be wearing such a ridiculous hat?"

"I was in a battle. This was my uniform."

"Were you with Santana?"

"Yeah…" Why was he acting like this? He wasn't her father.

"What the hell is going on between you two?"

"I don't know what you're –"

"Don't play that stupid innocent crap with me. You know damn well what I'm talking about."

The Dutch girl's head immediately snapped up the moment Artie said "stupid". Whenever that word was thrown at her it made her feel sick. It didn't matter who said it, or how it was being used, words like "stupid" – or anything along those lines – were nauseating.

Taking off her hat and holding it limply by her side, Brittany slowly approached the boy; the knot in her stomach getting tighter the closer she got.

"Artie…" she said, careful to keep her breathing under control. "_Nothing_ is going on between me and Santana. I promise. She's my best friend. That's it."

Artie said nothing as he reached around behind himself and unhooked Brittany's backpack from his handle bars. Placing the article on his lap he unzipped it and pulled out the dancer's heffalump along with an extremely wrinkled piece of paper. Blue eyes magnified as their owner recognized what the boy was holding up for her to see. She stepped forward, dropping her hat in the process, trying to snatch her possessions out of undeserving hands but Artie jerked them out of reach at the last second.

"Those are mine. Give them back." When Brittany spoke she sounded like a child and she had the body language to match.

"You left your stuff in Glee after you stormed out," Artie made no attempt to acknowledge she had said anything. While he talked his voice was calm. Almost too calm. "I figured I'd do the generous thing and bring them home for you. When I went to put your toy in your backpack, I found _this_," he held up the piece of paper forcefully, "sticking out of your binder. As you can probably imagine I was a little confused and slightly upset when I read it. Though, I must say, it is a _very_ touching speech."

"You… you read my note?" the blonde spoke quietly in disbelief. "But that's private."

"See… that's the beauty about being a couple. It means there is nothing private between us. You don't get to hide things like this from me."

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it was a big deal."

"SANTANA gave this to you!" He shoved everything off his legs in anger, causing the girl before him to jump out of fear. "Of course it's a big deal! How can you stand there and tell me _nothing_ is going on between you guys when Santana is writing you these immature love letters? !"

"Artie," Brittany kneeled down in front of her boyfriend and placed her hands over his. She tried to look up at him but he kept his focus on something in the distance. "Santana and I are _just_ friends. Please believe me."

Brittany had never been one to lie, and technically she wasn't lying now. True, she had kissed the brunette the previous day, but she had no idea if it even meant anything to the other girl. As far as she was aware, the two of them were still just friends. If Artie had accused her of having feelings for the Latina… weeelll… that was another story.

The clearly visible pissed off boy shook his head and finally looked down at the pleading girl in front of him. "You can't honestly look me in the eyes and tell me what you feel for Santana is nothing more than _just_ friends."

Aaaand she was screwed.

Now it was Brittany's turn to look away from her partner. She cast her blue eyes downward in an effort to hide her guilt. She knew she had deeper feelings for Santana, though she wasn't one hundred percent sure of what those feelings were. The only thing she was really sure of was that they weren't simple friendship emotions. Friends aren't supposed to make the other person go weak in the knees whenever they're around. They shouldn't make you feel like life isn't worth living when you can't be with them. Friends don't provide the only reason why a person wants to wake up in the morning. That's not a normal friendship. And because Brittany felt all those things for Santana she knew Artie was telling the truth.

The Dutch girl heard the boy in front of her sigh knowingly.

"I don't want you seeing her anymore," he informed.

"WHAT? !" The dancer finally looked up at him, her face painted with horror. "You can't ask me to do that!"

"I wasn't asking."

"Artie, please, she is my _best_ friend! I would die if I couldn't see her anymore!"

"No. My decision is final."

"Why are you treating me like a child? ! You're not my father! You can't tell me what to do!"

"Well maybe if you stopped acting like such a child I wouldn't have to. Brittany, that girl is a horrible influence on you. She's got you parading around town doing _GOD_ knows what! You're ditching school, doing unacceptable things… Like what the _HELL_ was that about in Glee Club? ! You embarrassed me in front of everyone!"

"I was sticking up for my friend!" Brittany jumped in to defend herself. She was appalled by what Artie was saying to her. If Santana was here she wouldn't have to explain herself like this. If Santana was here, she wouldn't even be in this situation.

"But that's what you don't get. You may be _her_ friend, but she's not _your_ friend. She's only nice to you because she knows you can give her things she can't get herself. She's _using_ you Brittany. Just like you used me."

"That's not true and you know it!"

Brittany was trying very hard to keep the tears that were threatening to burst from her eyes at bay. She wasn't going to give Artie the satisfaction of knowing he got to her. However, he was making it extremely difficult for her to do this time. Normally when he felt the need to make her feel bad about taking his virginity, she was easily able to hide the pain until she was alone. But this time he had brought Santana into the picture. This time he swung low, and he swung hard. It was nearly impossible for Brittany not to start crying right then and there, but she knew she couldn't let him win.

While the blonde continued to star at Artie, refusing to be the first one to look away (something Santana had taught her how to do if she was ever faced with a mean dog), the palm of her left hand suddenly began to vibrate. At first she thought it was Artie's knee until she remembered she was still clutching on to her phone. She ultimately broke eye contact with her boyfriend to answer the call when the device was quickly snatched from her hand. Artie took one look at the Caller I.D. and turned the phone off before throwing it down into Brittany's backpack with resentment.

"I need to answer that," the Dutch girl informed.

"You don't need to do anything. Not with her."

"I was supposed to call her when I got here. I need to let her know I made it home safely."

"I don't care. I don't want you talking to her."

"Then at least let me turn my phone back on. She doesn't like it when it's off."

"Why? Because now she doesn't have a puppet to play with?"

"No. She gets nervous when my phone's off. Please, just let me call her back and let her know I'm okay. She's probably freaking out right now."

"Wait…" Artie scoffed. "You actually think she's _worried_ about you? ! She doesn't care about you! The only thing she cares abotu more than herself is sex. That's probably the only reason why she's even calling you right now. She isn't getting any from Puck and she knows you'll give it to her because you're a slut. She's not worried about you Brittany! She's only worried about herself. And if you would stop being such a fucking _idiot_ for half a second and open your eyes, you'd see that I was right!"

Brittany could see Artie's mouth was still moving but she couldn't hear anything he was saying. The only noise she could hear was a loud ringing in her ears accompanied by her heart slamming in her chest. She was so taken aback by what Artie just said that her body forgot how to breathe properly. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. She didn't want to believe her boyfriend would willingly be the first person to make her feel sick to her stomach in the worst way possible. The dancer swallowed the lump in her throat, pushing her emotions down as far as she could. Her vision blurred over as water layered her blue eyes. She kept her gaze completely fixated on the ground, afraid if she blinked she wouldn't be able to hold back her tears once they started.

Brittany opened her mouth to try and speak but she couldn't find her voice. It had run away and she needed to find it before Artie was able to say anything more hurtful. After searching for what seemed like a lifetime, the blonde barely found enough of her voice to get out, "Wha… What did you just say?"

"I don't –"

"You said I was an idiot."

"Well," Artie stated matter of factly, "you kind of are. I mean the things you think are true! Seriously! A ballad is _not_ a male duck. Anthems are _not_ the bottom of an ant's pants. And gummy bears don't live in stalks of broccoli! It's absolutely ridiculous Brittany. I've met _toddlers_ smarter than you! And I bet Santana encourages this behavior. That way she won't have to worry about you being smart enough to figure out the real reason why she talks to you. If you can't even figure out how to turn on a computer, how are you going to be able to figure out when someone is using you? !"

"STOP IT!" Brittany screamed covering her ears and shutting her eyes.

She couldn't take it anymore. She didn't think he could say anything more to make her feel worse about herself, but he still managed to. He knew she hated being called stupid to her face, he knew that! He was well aware of how much those words would hurt her and yet he still said them. If she had only wished for Santana to here before, Brittany prayed for the brunette now. It didn't matter how frustrated the Latina got, she would _never_ call Brittany an idiot.

Stumbling to her feet, the Dutch girl could no longer suppress the flood of tears that began pouring down her cheeks. She knew she was about to break down and she couldn't let Artie see. Stepping around the destructive boy, Brittany clutched onto the doorknob, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

Before walking inside Brittany spoke, her voice low and bruised, towards the door, "Can you please go home now?"

"Brittany I-"

"GO AWAY!" she shrieked. Not bothering to make sure the boy did what he was told the blonde stepped inside her house and slammed the door shut. Leaning with her forehead pressed against the wood, the cheerleader breathed deeply through her nose, desperately trying to calm herself. As her body continued to shake uncontrollably, Brittany felt her stomach constrict violently. Clamping her hand over her mouth, Brittany raced to the bathroom. She was about to be sick. She was about to be sick and Santana wasn't there to hold her hair back.

Luckily Brittany made it to the toilet before the contents of her lunch came spewing back to her. With her body hunched over the porcelain, her stomach emptying itself and tears streaming down her face, the blonde found herself feeling completely helpless. She was all alone, in more physical and emotional pain than she could remember being in and there was no one there to rub her back while she threw up. Actually, feeling completely helpless was an understatement. She felt weak, abandoned, worthless and utterly lost.

When there was nothing left in her system to get rid of, Brittany barely had enough time to flush the toilet before she collapsed onto the tile floor. Her cries never let up and a sob that sounded an awful lot like _Santana_ escaped her trembling form.

Across town, the Latina's legs were burning. But she didn't care about that. She also didn't care that her mother threatened to disown her if she left dinner early. The only thing on her mind as she sprinted to her second home was Brittany. Something was horribly wrong. She could feel it. Not only had the blonde failed to call saying she arrived at her house safely (which she should have done by now), Santana knew Brittany was in pain. She didn't know how or why, she just knew she had to get to the dancer immediately.

The brunette suddenly cried out in frustration and nearly chucked her phone across the street. This was the fifth time she tried calling Brittany, and it was the fourth time she was sent directly to voicemail. Now Santana was positive something wasn't right. Brittany wasn't allowed to turn her phone off. A few years ago she had gotten lost on her way to Santana's house and she had forgotten to turn her phone on. The Latina had spent the better part of two hours tearing apart Lima trying to find her, ultimately finding her chilling out with a squirrel five miles for Santana's house. Ever since then, Santana made it a rule that the blonde was the keep her phone on at all times. This rule was number two on Brittany's Safety Guidelines. It went right under "NEVER take food or drink from someone unless you see them make it" (Though that had to be revised from "someone" to "stranger" when Brittany started refusing to take food from her mom).

As Santana scrambled to Brittany's house, she tried telling herself, _"Brittany's fine. Her phone probably just died… Though it shouldn't have since she's supposed to charge it every night. I bet she's sitting on the couch right now watching Phineas and Ferb. There's no reason for me to be worried."_ But no matter how many times the nervous girl said that to herself she couldn't believe it. The tingling on the back of her neck, the sinking feeling she had in the pit of her stomach, and the way her mind was moving faster than her legs told Santana she had every reason _to_ be worried.

When Brittany's house finally came into view, the Latina hurdled the two foot fence and practically flew through the front door. She paused for just a second on the porch to observe the pile of discarded stuff. Seeing the giant cowboy hat made Santana feel a smidgen better because it meant Brittany was definitely home. But her fears were far from silenced.

Bolting into the house, and skidding to a stop inches on the other side of the doorway, the brunette didn't even have to look to her left to know Brittany wasn't curled up on the couch watching TV.

"BRITTANY!" Santana screamed into the empty house.

Receiving no answer, the Latina took off up the steps taking two at a time. The blonde wasn't in her room, or her sister's, or her parent's. With the cheerleader nowhere upstairs, Santana stomped back down to the first floor. Halfway down the stairs Santana came to grinding halt. She narrowed her eyes in order to concentrate on the slightest noise her ears were able to pick up. To most people it would have been barely audible. But to Santana it was all she could hear. The brunette grasped onto the railing to support her progressively weakening legs.

_Oh please God no…_

Her brown eyes stared in horror at the bathroom door. It was slightly ajar and a sliver of light escaped out into the dark hallway. Santana knew Brittany was in there. She was also extremely confident she knew the exact what position the Dutch girl was in. She just prayed to God, or whoever felt like listening, that she was wrong.

Leaping over the railing, not even bothering with the rest of the stairs, Santana landed in front of the bathroom. She took a deep, preparing breath and gently pushed the door open all the way only to come face to face with her fears. The Latina bit down forcefully on her tongue to suppress the scream that was building in her throat from echoing through the house. But that didn't stop her from turning around punching the wall as hard as she could. When Santana faced the bathroom again her heart broke into a million pieces. It took all of her will power to keep herself from crumbling to the ground at the sight before her. Brittany had wedged herself between the toilet and bathtub – a task she was still able to do with ease even though she was no longer as small as she once was. Her legs were bound to her chest by her arms and her forehead was pinned securely to her knees. Santana watched as the blonde continued to sob uncontrollably; unaware the brunette was even in the room as she rocked back and forth, hitting her back against the wall at a steady pace.

After staring at her best friend for a few moments, completely paralyzed by a cold sweat, Santana finally sprang into action. She opened the linen closet and pulled out Brittany's favorite tap dancing monkey washcloth. Once she got it damp, Santana folded it and leaned over the sobbing girl. She reached down to carefully brush blonde hair off the back of Brittany's neck.

"It's just me," she assured before gently placing the washcloth onto Brittany's exposed neck. But she knew Brittany didn't hear her. She most likely didn't even notice the wet material cooling her skin. The Dutch girl was in her own world and all Santana could do now was sit back and wait.

The smaller girl lowered herself so she was sitting Indian style directly across from her other half. Santana encased a fisted hand with the other and brought them both to her mouth, jamming her elbows into the bend of her legs. As she sat silently on the bathroom floor, every vein in Santana's body was coursing with rage. She loathed these moments when something traumatized Brittany so severely she didn't even know where she was. It was always nearly impossible to discover what triggered one of these episodes without the help of the separated girl, because the reason changed every time. All anyone could do was sit through the excruciating wait until Brittany finally came back. But the absolute _worst_ part about these moments was that they happened enough times for Santana to know _exactly_ what to do. Comforting the blonde during moments like these was as easy for the Latina as reciting her ABC's. It shouldn't be like that. She shouldn't know the routine to handle Brittany better than she knew the back of her hand. She shouldn't know this stuff because things like this shouldn't happen to the people you love. It just shouldn't. End of story. And for a while… it didn't. For a while Santana thought she had everything under control.

The last time Brittany had a meltdown this bad was when she was fourteen and overheard her parents talking about the Lopez family going to Spain. The blonde only heard the words: "Lopez's", "Spain" and "live there" and she immediately convinced herself they were moving and she was never going to see her best friend again. Santana had to come over and explain to Brittany they were only visiting her aunt that lived there. It took the rest of the night to calm the Dutch girl down, but Santana didn't mind. She would have held the dancer for the rest of her life if that's how long it took. It didn't matter how much time was needed before Brittany settled down. What matter was that she had to settle down in the first place.

The Latina would have given anything so that she was the one curled up in a ball crying her eyes out. Anything to take the pain away from the last person on Earth who deserved to feel this way. Instead, here she was, forced yet again to watch her counterpart go through this crippling experience. Santana remained perfectly still in her spot keeping her eyes trained on the Dutch girl. She couldn't help but cringe as she watched Brittany dig her nails into her own arms in an effort to transform some of her emotional pain into physical pain. Physical pain she could control.

Afraid Brittany might break skin; Santana – still sitting Indian style – scooted forward until her shins lightly touched the other girl's ankles. She reached up and gently trailed her fingers over the blonde's stiff ones. Just like the smaller girl knew she would, Brittany's body slowly began to go limp. She stopped rocking and after a while her tightly clamped arms fell to her side. Santana continued to stroke her fingers along the dancer's pale skin; taking the time to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar the taller girl possessed; until she made her way up to the base of Brittany's neck.

Removing the washcloth and placing it on the edge of the bathtub the brunette whispered into blonde hair, "Do you think you can stand?"

Getting the faintest of nods from the sniffling girl, Santana cupped Brittany's elbows and stood her up. With the taller girl in the lead they side stepped around the toilet and stood in front of the sink. Santana held Brittany's hair back while the Dutch girl splashed cold water on her face. After she dried off, the cheerleaders silently left the bathroom and headed straight for Brittany's room. Once there, Santana helped the listless girl change out of her school clothes into sweats and an oversized t-shirt. This part always freaked the Latina out. The way Brittany just sort of regressed into a zombie-like existence; ceasing her cries as if they never occurred in the first place. No matter how many times she's been through this before, Santana had never been able to look at the blonde's face during this part of the routine. She was afraid she might see the normally sparkling blue eyes she loved become gray and vacant. So while she carefully pulled the shirt over the dancer's head, both girls kept their focus on anything but each other's gaze.

When Brittany was fully dressed she walked heavily over to her shelf dedicated to Disney movies. She wasn't even walking. She was just going through the motions. Her mind had checked out a while ago and the muscles in her body took over. It shouldn't be like this. Things like this shouldn't be muscle memory.

At the same time Brittany was choosing what film to watch, the brunette opened a dresser drawer reserved for her clothes and changed into pajamas. Now physically more comfortable (emotionally was a whole other story), Santana turned on the purple mini Bratz television and opened the DVD slot. Seconds later Brittany handed Santana "The Little Mermaid" disc. While the Latina placed the movie in the slot and pressed play, the blonde curled up on her bed.

The previews began rolling and Santana went to go attach herself to her completion. With her back propped up against the headboard, Santana wrapped one arm around Brittany; who immediately leaned into the smaller girl's protective embrace. Using the Dutch girl's shoulder to support her upper arm, Santana ran her fingers across a pale forehead and through smooth, blonde hair. Her other hand was intertwined with Brittany's and was resting peacefully on her stomach. The two girls remained completely still as they watched the movie together. The Latina made sure she didn't say a word.

It was very important for Brittany to be the first one to speak from this moment on. Otherwise if she felt pressured to talk, she would relapse into the broken state she was previously in (Santana learned that the hard way the first time she saw this happen).

After watching the movie play for about ten minutes, the Dutch girl's fragile voice ultimately broke the silence.

"I threw up."

"You did? Do you want me to get you some Ginger Ale?"

Brittany shook her head against the smaller girl's chest, "No. I want you to stay with me."

"Okay," Santana whispered, kissing the top of the blonde's head. "Just let me know if you start feeling sick again."

"Mmm-hmm."

The cheerleaders fell back into an oddly comfortable silence. Santana attempted to pay attention to the movie at hand but she was only able to concentrate on the fact that she was crawling in her own skin. Santana had never felt guiltier than she did in that moment. Not only did she once again fail to keep her promise and protect the only person she's ever loved, but she also allowed her blonde to be hurt multiple times over the past day. First a panic attack yesterday and now one of the worst meltdowns she's had today. What kind of friend was Santana if she let these things happen within twenty-four hours of each other? Brittany was the most _incredible_ person on the planet. She didn't deserve to go through this kind of pain. If anyone, the Latina believed that misogynistic jerk who likes to be referred to as _Artie_ (even saying his name in her head produced venom on her tongue) should be the one bombarded with this kind of suffering. Though, Santana knew that wasn't fair. The only reason she felt this way was for the simple fact that he had Brittany and she didn't.

She had no idea she was about to be presented with a legitimate reason for hating him in just a few seconds.

They had come to the part of the movie where Sebastian was singing "Under the Sea" to Ariel. Something about this song always relaxed Brittany enough so she was willing to start talking about what caused her to mentally leave like that. Sure enough, the taller girl shifted her body closer to Santana's and draped her legs over her protector.

"Artie brought my stuff home from school for me."

"That was nice of him. Did you say thank you?"

"He said horrible things about you."

"Whatever, it doesn't bother me. I hate that douche bag and he knows it. I don't care what he has to say about me. He could just go rot in a-"

"He called me a fucking idiot."

Her voice was so quiet, so broken, Santana wasn't sure she had even heard correctly. But the wet spot soaking through her shirt confirmed she was did. It took every ounce of her strength to keep herself from jumping off the bed and killing that son of a bitch. She would have too – in a heartbeat – if she wasn't currently being squeezed to death by Brittany. The smaller girl knew she had to stay perfectly calm while she was holding on to Brittany. If her body tensed the slightest bit, the blonde would instantly pick up on the change and become even more upset. Santana couldn't even allow her breathing to become wavered; she had to continue sitting there like nothing was wrong. All she could do was clench her jaw as hard as she could and compress her eyelids shut. Artie was a dead man.

While the Latina continued grinding her teeth, pretending that low life piece of scum was caught in the middle of her wrath, Brittany continued to talk.

"He said… he told me… he thinks you only hang out with me because you're using me for sex. He said you only cared about yourself and that you encourage me to act like a stupid slut so I wouldn't figure out what was going on. He told me he's seen toddlers smarter than me," the Dutch girl eventually choked out.

Santana wrapped both arms around Brittany's shoulders as she continued to cry. For the first time since she was six years old the brunette didn't know the exact words to say in order to make her friend feel better. People had called Brittany stupid before, but they were always random kids the cheerleaders barely new. It was easy explaining to the blonde how strangers had a tendency to be mean. But now they faced a new problem. Never had someone Brittany cared about said those things to her. It was like a mother telling her child she never wanted them in the first place. What do you say to someone when they just heard that? There's nothing you _can_ say. So while the blonde relived the harsh words spoken to her, Santana held her tighter with every passing second.

"He also… told me… I w-asn't allowed to s-see you anymore," Brittany struggled to say.

"_WHAT? !_ He can't do that!"

"He got mad 'cause he thought there's something going on between us. He found your note in my binder."

"You kept it with you?" Santana was slightly taken aback. She assumed it would have been thrown out by now. Obviously not.

"Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know. I just thought that maybe… I don't know," the Latina trailed off. She could feel Brittany's body expand and contrast as she took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"Is there?" she asked timidly. "Something between us, I mean?"

Santana didn't know how to answer that. Well, she did, but she couldn't. She had practiced for this moment in front of her mirror countless times before, but no amount of repitition could prepare her for the real thing. She opened her mouth to recite her script, but what came out was something unexpected: fury.

"Why do you even stay with him? ! He treats you like crap all the time! He calls you stupid and then selfishly rolls away like it was no big deal. You deserve better than him Brittany!"

"And who's better for me Santana? You?"

Both girls were now expending their sexual tension for one another in the form of an unnecessary argument.

"All I'm saying is that you need to be with someone who knows how to take care of you and love you until the day they die. Someone who will never dream about hurting you because seeing you cry stops their heart. Someone who has been with you through thick and thin and will never leave your side no matter how ugly things get. Someone who knows what movie to play for you at any given moment. _That's_ who you need."

"No. I need someone who isn't going to sleep around because they're too scared to be with me."

Wow… looks like everyone is swingin' low today.

"Touché" Santana nodded once.

"Gazuntite."

"No. Britt," the smaller girl chucked through her nose, "that means you're right. You _do_ deserve someone who isn't afraid to be with you... Maybe Artie's got a point. Maybe the best thing for you would be if I backed off a little. Maybe I'm hurting you more than I'm protecting you."

"NO!" Brittany shot her head back so she was staring directly at the Latina, her blue eyes wide with terror. "Don't leave me! Please don't go!"

"Ssshhh, it's okay." Santana soothed the girl on the verge of tears again. "I'm not about to go anywhere for a long time. Remember what I told you in the choir room a few weeks ago? I meant what I said. You're stuck with me."

"Then why did you just say you'll leave me?" the blonde was still petrified.

"I was only thinking out loud. But I wasn't serious. Okay? I promise I don't want to leave you. I _can't_ leave you."

"Okay." Brittany relaxed her forehead against the smaller girl's chin, turning back to watch the movie.

Santana resumed her earlier motion weaving her fingers through blonde hair. She could feel the steady rhythm of the Dutch girl's heartbeat against her own, and smiled when she realized they matched.

"That was the same day you got upset about being called retarded," she added delicately. "And I told you that you were the smartest, funniest, most caring person I know. Everything I said to you in the room is still true. I don't care what Artie said earlier. Well… I do. And he _will_ die. But what I'm saying is: you shouldn't listen to what anyone else says about you. You're amazing Brittany. And if someone is too blind to see that then fuck them. It doesn't matter what _they_ think about you. The only thing that matters is what _you_ think of you."

"But I don't _know _what I think of me," the dancer whispered.

"Well… _I_ know what I think of you. You're kind, selfless, brave, absolutely _hilarious_ and amazing. You're the most beautiful person I have ever seen in my entire life and I love everything that you do. I love the way you dance, the way you smile, the way you bite your lip when you pout. I love how, when you get confused, you always scrunch your nose up. Or how, when you smirk, and your eyes sparkle, you make me go weak in the knees. When I'm near you, my stomach starts doing jumping jacks and I forget how to breathe. My heart starts pounding and I just want to kiss you. I want to kiss you and holding you tight and never you let go.

I'm never letting you go Brittany. You can let go, but I won't. I'll be right here waiting for you. I don't care how long it takes. One day you'll see that Artie isn't the guy for you. I am. I will never call you stupid, or hurt your feelings, or refuse to play hop-scotch with you. Whenever you needed me I will drop everything and come running. Even if I'm about to shake the President's hand, if you call my name I'll be there. Nothing in this world is more important to me than you. I will do everything in my power to make sure you're always happy. I'll make sure you never shed a single tear for the rest of your life. And I _know_ you can't say the same thing about Artie. He sucks, Britt. I just can't wait for the day when you finally see that and drop his sorry ass. And when you do, I'll be right there on the side waiting. I love you Brittany. I love you more than anything. And… I _desperately_ wish there was something between us like Artie said."

Santana had to stop to compose her thoughts and she let out a shaky breath. Once she started she just kept going; the words she practiced for so long escaping her mouth easier than she anticipated. She said everything she needed to say and hoped she conveyed her message with the right amount of clarity. The only problem now was the blonde had yet to say anything. She didn't even give any hints as to whether or not she heard the brunette in the first place. The Latina needed an answer before she exploded from embarrassment.

"Brittany?" Santana asked softly. "Britt?"

Still receiving no answer, Santana twisted her head so she was able to at least see her friend's face. When she discovered the Dutch girl had fallen asleep, Santana smiled peacefully to herself. But her smile soon faded as reality slowly began to sink in. She had just confessed everything she had been holding inside to Brittany, and the sleeping girl in her arms didn't hear a single word. She knew she was probably never going to get another chance like this again and it devastated her.

Laying her head back against the headboard, Santana returned her attention towards the movie she forgot was still playing. The Latina didn't even notice the silent tears that cascaded down her face as she quietly sang along with Sebastian.

"And you don't know why but you're dyin' to try. You wanna kiss the girl."

* * *

**So what did you think? How badly was everyone out of character? Remember though... I planned to make Artie the bad guy. And bad guy I did make him!**

**I hated the idea of making this entire chapter dark, and I have a really funny idea for the next scene. I was going to put it in this chapter, but I realized it would be too long and take away from what was needed more.**

**Please review and let me know what you guys think. I really want to better myself as a writer.**

**You guys rock!**


	5. It's Not Over Til the Crippled Boy Cries

**Oh my god you guys. First of all: Do I really need to say anything about "The Scene"? I just wanted to hug Naya Rivera so badly. Girl made me cry. And it made me hate Artie even more. But seriously you guys… pure genius. Absolute. Pure. Genius.**

**Anyway, I'm crazy nervous about this chapter. More so than the others. I tried to make it funny but it feels rushed. I did stay up until 6 but couldn't get it done and now I have to leave for school in half an hour and I'm still in my pajamas! AND! I have a major exam I didn't study for. What has Glee done to me?**

**Good luck reading this! It only went through one round of editing.**

* * *

Santana was uncomfortable. She was without a doubt, absolutely no room for discussion, completely and one hundred percent uncomfortable. Not even the warmth of the sun gracing its way across her skin could provide the solace she needed to keep herself in that early morning fog she loved so much. Nothing on the planet had the power to be able to allow her to go back in the half-asleep, dazed bliss she wished she was still in. Why? Because she was so God. Damn. UNCOMFORTABLE!

Her brown eyes were tightly closed but Santana had a very good idea as to what position her body was in. Based on the stiffness in her neck, the blood pounding in her ears, the warm material covering her face, the edge of a mattress digging into her back, and the carpet brushing against her finger tips; the brunette knew her arrangement was not pretty. She could only guess her body was sprawled unceremoniously across the bed with her torso hanging off the side.

Perfect. Now she was going to be sore all day. Fan-fucking-tastic.

As the Latina's mind slowly began to mature into a lucid state she eventually became aware of the suffocating weight pressed firmly to her chest. When breathing turned into a chore, Santana tried her best to sit up and lighten the load. But the weight was heavier than she anticipated and she immediately dropped back down. Her head bashed against the side of the bed before she came to a complete stop. Letting out a groan, Santana reached up to push away what she assumed to be her blankets – only to come in contact with something solid.

Huh… well that was strange. Last time she checked blankets were supposed to be soft and squishy. Not hard and round. It wasn't one of her pillows because they were all square. And it couldn't have been one of the stuffed animals she owned because… well… she didn't own any. This was very confusing.

Finally awake enough to open her eyes Santana greeted her opponent with the best glare she could muster at seven in the morning. But the second her perception came into focus the Latina instantly replaced her frustration with bewilderment. Her face wasn't being covered by a bundle of blankets, but by a disarray of blonde hair.

"What the…?" Santana let out, swatting the tangled mess from her face.

Once her vision was no longer impaired, the brunette recognized the obstruction lying atop her body as one Brittany Susan Pierce. The Dutch girl was hanging face down off the bed using Santana to hold her up. Brittany was still fast asleep and Santana continued having major difficulties when it came to the breathing department. As much as she loved the blonde, Santana had a hard time accepting the fact that the dancer was always such ridiculously dead weight when she was unconscious. It was like there was an entire building located on her chest instead of a fragile, high school girl.

Santana placed her hand on the pale shoulder jamming into her side and gave it a gentle shake. "Britt…Wake up." When the blonde didn't stir, Santana shook her again, this time with much more persistence. "Britt-any! Wake up you lazy sack of potatoes! I can't breathe!" Again the Latina's efforts to wake the sleeping beauty failed. She now had no choice but to go full speed ahead and proceed with extreme caution. She did take a few seconds to try really hard and feel bad for what she was about to do, but was unable to create the least bit of sympathy for the dancer. Brittany had brought this upon herself.

Bending her right elbow to her face, Santana stuck her index finger in her mouth, making sure she generated enough saliva to fully saturate her finger. Using every muscle in her neck, the Latina raised her head up towards the one draped over her collar. With unnecessary struggle, the brunette finagled herself so her lips were grazing Brittany's ear. Taking one last breath in preparation for what was to come, Santana opened her mouth to deliver the blow.

"BRITTANY!" she shouted directly into her victim's ear, giving her a Wet Willy.

The blonde finally woke up however she did so rather violently. Brittany jerked her head off Santana's chest in panic, her eyes bursting out of their sockets as she frantically looked around the room. Her sudden movement caused her to yelp as she toppled off the bed completely, bringing Santana along for the ride. The cheerleaders collapsed into a heap on the floor with their limbs folded at odd angles. One of Santana's arms was folded under her back and the other was pinned beneath Brittany's knee. Her left leg remained on top of the bed, but her right leg thought it would be a good idea to relocate itself on the ground above her head. Guess her body never got the memo that she _wasn't_ a contortionist.

At least Brittany had it a little better. She crash-landed in a slump on top of the smaller girl, lessening the impact towards her own body. The only major injury she received was when her shin whacked the corner of her nightstand in all the commotion.

Long story short: the two were a mess.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, _ow_!" Santana whimpered as she tried to dislodge her arm from the leg trap it was in. "Get off me, get off me, get off me!"

Brittany tried to dismount the Latina without causing any more damage, but she knew her efforts were in vain when she heard a strangled cry escape her friend.

"OW! Brittany!" She screeched when the blonde pinched a nerve in an attempt to roll off her body.

"I'm sorry!" Brittany sat up and nursed her shin, watching Santana do the same to her elbow. "Why would you even _do_ that? !"

"I was trying to wake you up!"

"You could have just shaken me or something!"

"Oh gee! Why didn't _I_ think of that? ! Next time I'm hanging upside down with 100 pounds crushing my lungs, I'll make sure to express my discomfort in a much more convenient way for you. How's that?"

"Good." Brittany continued rubbing her shin to alleviate some of the sting. She breathed in deeply through clenched teeth, wincing when she hit a particularly sore spot. She looked down and saw that her pale skin was already morphing into a healthy shade of purple. Oh the perks of having sensitive skin.

"Owww…" Brittany whined.

"What happened? !" Santana's brown eyes filled with worry the moment she inspected the cause of the blonde's agony.

"I hit my leg on my nightstand!"

"Oh you poor baby! Want me to kiss it to make it feel better?"

"Yes please," Brittany pouted.

Santana chuckled at the grouch in front of her as she leaned forward onto her knuckles. She bent her head down and lightly kissed the discolored spot on the Dutch girl's leg. She let her eyes close on contact and her lips shivered at the touch of Brittany's skin against her own. She allowed her lips to linger where they were longer than intended, but now that she was there she didn't want to break the connection. The Latina finally opened her eyes and drew back just enough so she could see Brittany's face.

"Better?"

"No," Brittany shook her head sadly. She was fairly convincing at her little charade, but was unable to mask the hunger in her eyes. "It still hurts."

"How 'bout now?" Santana returned her lips to their previous position, this time prolonging the moment by dancing her mouth all around the blonde's shin. She deepened each kiss when she felt a hand combing its way through her hair.

"San? I hit my knee too."

The smaller girl answered by leaving behind a trail of tender kisses as she made her way up to the "battered" knee. The hand that was in her hair began massaging the back of her head and Santana fought to suppress a moan. Placing one last kiss against pale skin, the brunette looked up with equally ravenous eyes.

"Anywhere else?"

"My shoulder?"

Santana used her arms to support her body as she pulled her legs directly under herself so she was now kneeling comfortably in front of the Dutch girl. Her lips didn't hesitate to delicately aid the newly injured body part. When she made contact with Brittany, the massage against her scalp quickly transformed into something fiercer. Something more desperate. Santana didn't stop her motion until she heard a voice whisper into her neck.

"You know," Brittany wavered, "you _did_ scream in my ear earlier…"

The Latina didn't say anything as she manipulated her mouth all the way up to Brittany's ear. Instead of opting for more kisses, Santana playfully bit down on the blonde's earlobe. She smiled, with Brittany's ear still caught between her teeth, when she felt the taller girl shudder at the touch. Santana ultimately granted permission for her tongue to venture out of her mouth and twirl the diamond stud Brittany was wearing. After a few more seconds of tasting every inch of the dancer's ear, Santana pulled away ever so slightly. She looked deep into blue eyes – which just re-opened – and couldn't contain the seductive grin that materialized on her face.

"I think I may have accidentally punched you in the mouth too." When she spoke, her voice was raspy.

The hoarseness in her tone was enough to give Brittany a mild stroke. She nodded in agreement, "My lips _are_ kinda sore."

"Well… Let me fix that for you."

The cheerleaders leaned into one another, their eyes trained on the lips opposite them. Santana's heart became a gold medalist jumping jacker as the situation she was in fully processed in her mind. She was about to kiss Brittany! She was about to lock lips with the single person she was in love with. She was… Oh God! She was about to have a heart attack!

_Not now! Can't you see I'm busy? ! Come back later when I'm _not_ about to be the happiest person on the planet!_

Unfortunately her heart didn't feel like this was a good time to start listening to Santana and actually began beating faster. Doing her best to ignore the palpitations in her chest, the Latina pressed her forehead to Brittany's. All she had to do now was lower her chin and she was there. She just had to tilt her head and her dream would come true. But before she could make her move, she felt the dancer's head shift against her own.

Brittany was now the one calling the shots. She slowly slid her nose back and forth across tan skin, teasing the other girl and enjoying every minute of it. When her lips crossed paths with Santana's once more she leaned in for the kill. Their lips were centimeters apart. Now only millimeters. Now they were microscopically close. They were about to touch! This was it. The moment Santana had been waiting for since she was seven and realized she should have kissed her when they got married. She had been waiting patiently ever since and now her moment had finally come. Now she was going to –

"Brittany? Santana? Are you two – Oh!" An older blonde woman came bursting through the bedroom door, stopping immediately when she caught sight of the extremely flustered girls on the floor.

Upon the unannounced entrance, the cheerleaders sprang back from each other as if they were just burned. But not before the proximity of their bodies, especially their lips, was compromised to the intruder.

Brittany wiped her mouth quickly, thinking if she removed the longing for the brunette's lips from her own she could hide the fact that they almost just kissed. That they almost just did the one thing she asked – strike that, _begged_ – Santa for for Christmas.

"Mom! What are you doing home?" the Dutch girl questioned, her voice at a strangely high pitch.

Mrs. Pierce took another moment to smile lovingly at her biological daughter and the girl she considered to be her adoptive daughter before answering the question at hand. "I came home _last night_ and found you two sound asleep on the bed. You guys looked so adorable I didn't want to wake you for dinner. You missed out though. It was make your own pizza night. Too bad. BUT! It is now 7:15 and you're going to be late for school. So get off the floor and get dressed. Taxi's leaving in twenty minutes."

"Kay!" Brittany declared, leaping to her feet and rummaging around her room in order to get ready.

Santana was left on the floor replaying what just happened over and over again in her mind. She was so close! If she would have just leaned in sooner she would have been able to kiss Brittany before her mom barged in. But, as luck would have it, she once again took too long and missed yet another opportunity to express how she felt. Why did these things always happen to her? Why was her timing never perfect? Why could she never catch a break? Why, WHY _WHY? !_

"Santana?" A gentle voice brought her back to the real world.

"Yeah?"

"I wanted to thank you. For being there for Brittany last night. I saw her special washcloth on the tub. You never cease to amaze me when it comes what you do for her. You're such a wonderful friend. We're so lucky to have you in our lives."

"Awww! Thanks Mama P! I'd do anything for your daughter, you know that."

"And I appreciate everything that you do."

"SO DO I!" Brittany's voice hollered from the other side of the closet she was changing in. Her little outburst elicited laughs from the other two girls.

"Okay," Mrs. Pierce continued, "finish getting ready. I'll make you guys some breakfast." She turned to leave but abruptly stopped herself by placing her hand on the doorframe. She looked back at Santana with a stern, but loving, look plastered across her face. "Just so you know, Brittany had an open door policy when she was with Artie. Don't think just because you're family that rule gets thrown out the window. It still applies for the two of you. Door stays open." With one last wink Mrs. Pierce left a gaping Latina to scrape her jaw off the floor.

The dancer finally presented herself, fully dressed, and looked down at the small girl in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"I… I think your mom thinks we're dating."

"How come?"

"She told me we still had to follow the open door policy."

"Oh," Brittany sat down on her bed to put her shoes on. "At least we know she's cool with it for when it does happen."

Santana's ears immediately flared up and she cocked her head sideways at her friend. "Did you just say _when?_"

Brittany finished putting her shoes on and bolted out of the room. Her childlike voice wafted down the hall as she shouted over her shoulder, "Race you to the kitchen!"

It took a while before the brunette was able to run after her. And once she did, there was only one thing she was able to concentrate on. "Did you just say _WHEN_? !"

Thirty minutes later the cheerleaders were dressed, fed, and standing on the front steps of William McKinley High School. Without even thinking about it, Santana raised her arm to hook onto the pinky next to her so they could walk in together like they did every morning. Concern rapidly flooded her body when she noticed the dancer was shaking. She instantly stepped in front of the taller girl, keeping a hold on her finger, and tried to meet the blue eyes fixated on the main entrance.

"Brittany? Are you okay? Talk to me."

"What if he's waiting for me?"

"If he is, I'll be right by your side."

"But what if he says something mean?"

"Then he's a dead man. Look," Santana gently turned Brittany's cheek so they were staring at each other, "I'm already set on killing him. If he says _anything_ to you that's not: 'I worship the ground that you walk on', then I'll be sure to make his death that much slower and more painful. I won't let him hurt you again. Got it?"

"Yeah," Brittany nodded weakly.

"Good. Now let's go. And remember, I'm right here."

The Latina fully latched onto Brittany's hand and held on as tight as she could. The two girls cautiously made their way into the school. Santana was left to maneuver the both of them through the halls since the blonde surrendered her eyes to scanning duty. She was too preoccupied keeping a lookout for an evil, little man in a wheelchair. You know that guy? And he has the hair? Yeah that one. Well… Brittany didn't particularly want to see him at that given moment. Or _any_ given moment for that matter. She wanted to avoid him at all costs for the rest of her life.

Santana ultimately directed the blonde and herself to their neighboring lockers. She helped the Dutch girl open hers before moving on to her own. As she was putting irrelevant books away, a figure standing in her peripherals caught her eye. Shutting her locker and turning to face the taller girl next to her, Santana announced, "I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm just gonna go talk to someone for a sec. Stay right here, okay? Do _not_ move. I mean it."

"Be quick."

"I will."

And with that, the brunette turned on her heel and stormed off to unleash her wrath on the person who – admittedly – probably didn't deserve it in the first place. But since the real offender wasn't around, they would simply have to do.

In less than a few seconds the smaller girl was basically on top of the person of interest, jabbing her finger into their sternum.

"You better tell that _shit head_ if he _EVER_ talks to Brittany like that again, I will personally break every law imaginable to make sure I get his head on a silver platter. You got that?"

"What in God's name are you going on about? !" the startled girl hollered.

"Can it Mercedes! You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about!"

"First of all: no I don't. Second: you need to stop stabbing me with your talons or I _will_ cut you," Mercedes warned. She grabbed Santana's hand and held it away from her body. "Third: I'm not going to listen to you unless you're calm."

"I AM CALM!"

"Girl, there is _foam_ coming out of your mouth. You are not calm. Now. I'm going to go back to putting my books away and I'm going to ignore you until I don't feel like my life is in danger. You can talk to me when you've locked up Cujo."

True to her word, Mercedes pivoted back towards her locker and proceeded with her original task. The raging cheerleader squeezed her hands into vice like fists; her knuckles turning white with the force. All she saw was red as she tried very hard not to rip apart the other girl. Mercedes' complete sense of relaxation was really starting to piss Santana off – more than she already was.

"Mercedes…"

"You're still not caaalm!" the diva sang into her opened backpack.

Santana clamped her eyes shut and took in a deep breath through her nose. She counted backwards from ten before slowly expelling it out her mouth. When she opened her eyes she was met head on by a triumphant smile.

"There? Doesn't that feel better?" Mercedes congratulated. "Now what is your problem?"

"Oh! _I_ don't have a problem! _Artie_ is the one with the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you better tell your little friend that he better watch his back because I'm going to KILL him."

"Hold up!" Mercedes raised a "Mariah Hand" in defense to the current statement, "I don't know how they do things in the Underworld, but here on Earth you can't just go around killing people for fun. That's what we like to call _illegal_."

"I don't give a rats ass if it's illegal or not. After what he did to Brittany there's no way I'm going to let that scummy piece of shit live."

"What did he do to Brittany?"

"Yesterday that little _fucker_ caused Brittany to have a complete melt down! When I found her, she was sobbing on the bathroom floor! It was so bad she made herself sick. SO! You can tell that son of a bitch he's officially dead!" Santana made no effort in hiding her anger anymore.

But she didn't have to worry about Mercedes reprimanding her. It was clear the diva was fighting off her own outrage. "He did _WHAT_? ! How -?"

"Apparently he told her she was a fucking idiot and that toddlers were smarter than her. He tried to convince her she was too stupid to see when someone was using her and that she wasn't allowed to see me anymore," the Latina shouted.

"Oh HELL to the nah! Imma kill him! Imma. Kill. Him!" Mercedes side stepped around the smaller girl to hunt down the wheelchair bound boy, but was stopped by a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Wait! We need a plan. How are we gonna hide the body?"

"I don't know. Burn it? Does it really matter? Boy is going down. You don't do shit like that. _Especially_ to Brittany. What else did he have the guts to say to her?"

"I'm not sure. She was too catatonic to tell me anything. I don't think she even knew where she was for half the night."

"Oh my God! Is she okay now? Where is she? Is she okay? !"

"Yes, she's fine. She's over at her locker" Santana turned and pointed behind her at the girl drawing on sticky notes posted to her locker door. "For the time being, she's fine. I was able to calm her down last night and she was fine this morning. But she got really nervous when she got to school. She's afraid she's going to see him. The only reason she's even in the building is because I told her I was going to be with her the entire time."

"SEE? ! This further proves my point. You're the perfect one for her and it's obvious she _loves _you. She's just waiting for you to man up and ask her out already. So go over to your blonde and propose to her for Pete's sake!" Mercedes shooed her hands at Santana to go and do what she was told.

The Latina only waved the gesture away, shaking her head indifferently, "We're already married… Long story," she shook her head upon receiving an inquiring look from the diva. "Besides, I can't ask her out yet because she's still with Artie.

Mercedes' mouth immediately dropped open and her dark eyes bulged in disbelief, "Are you _serious_? ! You need to fix that!"

"Why do you think I'm going to kill him?"

"Practice," she deadpanned. "Look, I don't care how you do it, but you need to get Brittany away from him before things get any worse. I'm not kidding."

The way Mercedes said that made Santana's blood run cold. There was just the slightest hint of fear in her voice that told the Latina she really wasn't kidding. It sounded so much like a warning. Like she knew something was going to happen. Something bad. But before the smaller girl could interrogate the situation further, she heard a different (yet familiar) voice speak up next to her.

"Whatcha guys talking about?"

The sudden noise made Santana jump a mile and she looked to her side at the curious mind. Brittany was bouncing on her toes – as she does whenever she got excited about something – and her arm was linked with Santana's at the elbow. The gesture went completely unnoticed by the brunette and she literally had to grab the connection with her other hand to make sure they were really touching.

"Britt," she scolded gently, "I told you not to move."

"I know. I'm sorry. But I saw him. He's over at his locker." The Dutch girl craned her neck in the direction of her boyfriend. Tension descended upon the school as the three huddled girls stiffened at the sight of the unsuspecting boy. Brittany turned back to face her friends, "Anyway. Whatcha guys talking about?"

Santana was about to come up with an excuse for the blonde when Mercedes suddenly jumped in.

"We're trying to figure out how to get you to break up with Artie. And then we plan on crushing him like a bug. All so you and Santana here," she reached out to give the Latina's shoulder a firm squeeze, "can have a happily ever after together. Ain't that right Santana?"

Brittany and Mercedes looked expectantly at the gawking girl before them. Santana could only glace sideways at Brittany, her mouth contorted into something between a perplexed smile and a nervous twitch about to explode from her lips. She was really getting sick of Mercedes butting in to her business all the time and sharing it with the entire world. Her total confidence that everything would work out swimmingly was getting on Santana's last nerve. If things didn't go the way she wanted them to, she was going to weld Mercedes' hands to a certain wheelchair (with a certain boy in it) and push them off a cliff.

The brunette was too busy glaring at the ex cheerleader to notice Brittany nudging her in the side.

"Santanaaa…" the Dutch girl cooed rotating her hips in a circle.

"Brittany…" the smaller girl answered decisively, turning to face her friend.

"Mercedes…" the diva piped in before clapping her hands together. "Okay! Now that everyone's been introduced, let's get back to the matter at hand. How does Santana go about convincing you to break up with Artie?"

Two pairs of eyes were locked on the blonde as she worked her lower lip between her teeth. "Actually. I came over to tell Santana I was going to break up with him right now."

The Latina practically gave herself whip lash in the process of facing her body directly towards Brittany's. She tried to camouflage her excitement by doing her best to appear startled. Though she didn't have to try as hard as she predicted because she quickly became concerned for the dancer's well being. She wasn't sure if it had to do with what Mercedes said earlier, or if this decision was simply spur of the moment. Either way, something wasn't sitting right with her.

"What made you decide that?"

Brittany shrugged her shoulders, her eyes fixated on the floor, "I don't know. He was mean yesterday. And you said anyone who is mean to me isn't worth my time."

"Yeah, but sweetie. I don't want you breaking up with him because of something I said."

Mercedes snorted loudly and began laughing, "Biggest lie in America!" Her opinion warranted a blind slap in the face by Santana – who was still focused solely on the blonde.

"Point is," the Latina continued, "I don't want you doing something unless _you_ want to."

"But I do. After last night I realized I don't want to be with someone like Artie."

"Who do you want to be with?" Mercedes inquired. The diva exaggerated moving her eyes back and forth between the two cheerleaders. Each time she landed on Santana she would tilt her head to the side in order to emphasize her point further.

Brittany smiled at the questioning girl, a knowing glimmer her eyes. "Someone who will play hop-scotch with me, or ignore the President if I needed them to."

At Brittany's statement, Santana felt her entire body go numb. Did she just hear correctly? Did Brittany just reference her President example? Did the Dutch girl actually hear her last night? No. That was impossible. She was asleep! She was sound asleep and missed the Latina's entire confession. But then… how did she know about hop-scotch? Or the President?

Shaking her head clear of any more conflicting thoughts, Santana spoke up so she wasn't just standing there like a loser.

"Are you _sure_ this is what you want to do?" She chose to ignore the last remark because she knew if she said anything, she'd only produce major word vomit.

"Yes. I'm positive."

"Okay," she breathed. "Let's do this," Santana, with Brittany still attached to her elbow, turned to march over to the boy at his locker. But before she could get anywhere she was brought whirling back to her spot, one foot flailing in the air as she spun on the other. Brittany had planted her feet and jerked her arm back to prevent the smaller girl from getting away. "What?"

"I wanna do it alone." Her voice was slightly timid and her shoulders were raised in the defensive mode.

"WHAT? !" Santana shrieked. "Hell no! There is no way I'm going to let you anywhere _near_ that kid by yourself! Absolutely not!"

"Santana. Please? I have to do this by myself. He's already mad at you. It'll just make it worse if you're there. Please?" she begged.

The brunette ran her palms across her face and sighed. Bringing one hand up behind her neck and massaging it roughly, she placed the other hand on her hip. She bent her head towards the floor, morphing her face into deep concentration, hoping to find the answer written on the tile. When she found none, Santana puffed out her cheeks as she released a defeated breath.

"Okay, fine. But the _second_ things start getting out of hand, give us the signal. Got it?"

"Got it!" Brittany spun on her heel, took one step, stopped, turned back to her friends and raised an eyebrow, "What's the signal?"

"This," Mercedes flapped her arms by her side and lifted one foot like a crane, "KUH-KAH!"

Santana instantly shoved the girl so she would fall over from the sudden loss of balance, and cease her obnoxious display. "No. Do not do that. Just make sure we get the message."

"Will do," the blonde gave a thumbs up.

"Remember. Mercedes and I are right over here if you need us. Good luck!" the Latina called after the retreating girl.

Brittany slowly approached her soon to be ex boyfriend (so she hoped), each step more timid than the last. Wringing her hands together, she stepped to the right side of him so that when he turned to face her, his back was to the other girls.

"Hey Artie." The blonde did her best to sound strong, but her voice barely came out more than a whisper.

"Hello Brittany. Do you have something to say to me?"

"Um… yeah. I did. I-" Brittany cut herself off and looked up passed the boy when she noticed movement in the corner of her eye. She saw Santana and Mercedes waving their arms without a sound above their heads to get her attention. It certainly worked.

The Dutch girl bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to suppress her laughter, but the two girls she just left were making that extremely difficult for her to do.

She watched Santana point to herself and then at the dancer mouthing, "I'm you." Mercedes did the same but in reference to Artie. Santana then pulled out an invisible sword from its sheath and yielded it at Mercedes. The diva's eyes went wide and suddenly the weapon was being plunged into her stomach. She keeled over in agony as Santana pulled the sword out from her wound in order to lick the blood off the blade. The brunette looked over at Brittany, giving her a wink, before chopping off Mercedes' legs.

The blonde's chest constricted in her attempts not to burst out in hysterics. Artie gave her an impatient look and she did her best to return and focus on the task at hand.

"Artie… about yesterday…"

"Yes? I hope you've come to realize your mistake."

"I did actually," Brittany suddenly discovered that she did have a voice. She stood up taller and glared down at the boy. "I realized my mistake in going out with you. I realized-" But there was no way she could continue over the loud snort that escaped her body.

"Brittana" and "Artcedes" were still in the middle of their silent battle. Santana had just pulled out a bow and was shooting arrows at Mercedes; sending the girl flying back into the lockers. Brittany's outburst occurred when Santana ripped the safety off a grenade with her teeth and threw it on the ground. The moment it landed, Mercedes opened her mouth in a noiseless scream as she withered on the floor in pain.

Brittany brought her hand to her mouth to try and cover her giggles, but Artie caught on. He whipped his head around to see what all the fuss was about but all he saw was Santana leaning against the lockers inspecting her nails, and Mercedes putting books in her backpack. The moment he turned back to face Brittany, the two girls resumed their savage onslaught. Somehow Santana acquired a bazooka and was currently blowing Mercedes' head off.

"BRITTANY!" Artie's voice brought her back to the present moment. "What are you babbling about?"

The Dutch girl looked back at the angry boy, "You said some really mean things yesterday and it hurt my feelings." Her voice started to waver, but she refused to show her weakness. "I wanted to talk to you because I wanted to let you know that I'm breaking up with you."

Artie's eyes transformed into rage and he rolled his chair closer to the now visibly frightened girl. "_WHAT_? !"

"I – I'm breaking up with you?"

"You can't break up with me!"

"Yes I can. I don't want to be your girlfriend anymore." She had to keep reminding herself to put forth a steady voice, but that was getting to be nearly impossible to do as the boy kept advancing on her. She took a step back and accidentally bumped into another student standing by their locker. Suddenly she was trapped. This wasn't good. How was she supposed to get Santana's attention? They never figured out a signal.

"Did _Santana_ put you up to this? !" He spat her name out as if it were poison on his tongue. "Because if she did –"

"If she did… _what_?" Before Artie had time to finish his sentence, Santana and Mercedes swarmed down upon him, standing in front of Brittany; protecting her. The Latina cocked her head to the side menacingly. "What are you gonna do Artie? Roll over my feet?"

"Get out of the way. This is between me and Brittany."

"But you see, the moment you decided to yell at her it turned into you and me."

Ignoring the brunette, Artie looked in the middle between the two girls at the cowering dancer. "Brittany, tell this bitch to get out of my face. I'm not done talking to you."

"I think she's done talking to _you_," this time Mercedes was the one to jump in on the conversation. She reached around to place a reassuring hand on the small of Brittany's back, "Come on. Let's go get lunch. I'm starving."

The three girls turned in the direction of the cafeteria, but were stopped by a shrill voice calling out to them. "This isn't over! You don't get to break up with me!"

"BOY! You better shut yo mouth unless you want Santana to murder you before you get a chance to say your good-byes," Mercedes warned.

Artie nervously looked at Santana, whose brown eye's shone with a deep longing. A grim smile spread across her face and she spoke calmly, "You're right. This isn't over. I'd watch my back if I were you." The brunette waved her fingers at him, "See you later Wheels."

The three girls continued on their journey to satisfy their growling stomachs. Their walk to the lunch room was silent until Brittany leaned over Mercedes to look Santana in the eye.

"By the way. That was clue number two."

* * *

**Okay. Please be nice, but don't hesitate in giving me constructive criticism. I had a really hard time writing this for some strange reason. Everyone is OOC and I hope you'll forgive me for that. **

**How shall Artie die?**

**And ysubassoon… don't worry! Your cameo is coming up shortly!**


	6. Ravishing Is the New Cute

**Hey guys. Next chapter up! I'm really sorry it took as long as it did. Real life just sorta got in the way all of a sudden.**

**This chapter is definitely just a transition to get from last chapter to the next. Though I'm not gonna lie, I had a lot of fun coming up with everything. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much I did writing it!**

**Oh… and I little piece of advice. If you want people to know you updated your story (or even written one), don't post on or around National Brittana day. Seriously, five minutes after I posted my last chapter it was already on page 6. But that shows how devoted you Brittana lovers out there are! Go you!**

**Uno more thingo. I'd like to apologize for the horizontal bar in the previous chapter for breaking up two paragraphs. I placed it in the right spot but it somehow moved? I'm not sure. But I didn't check to make sure everything was all set and I had to run out to go to class. So... I apologize.**

**Anyway. Commence! (( Sorry for the long paragraphs that don't have any dialogue ))**

* * *

For the second time that day, Santana was extremely uncomfortable. This time, however, it had nothing to do with the position her body was in. Physically she was perfectly fine. She was standing up straight, her weight was distributed comfortably on one leg while the other jutted out a little. The hand that wasn't resting on her hip was intertwined with Brittany's; swinging back and forth as the blonde absently hummed a soft, unidentifiable tune. No, Santana's _body_ was completely comfortable. And if it were up to her she would have stayed how she was for the rest of her life. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that her emotions were extremely _un_comfortable.

Standing only a few inches away, obviously making a point to show the rest of the world she was a part of the cheerleader's group, was Mercedes Jones. Ever since the encounter with Artie earlier that morning, Mercedes had yet to leave Brittany's side. Even though she was crawling in her own skin, the Latina tried to tell herself that it was a good thing Mercedes was hanging around. She tried to tell herself that having the diva around meant Brittany would have someone protecting her from all angles. She tried to tell herself that having the diva around meant Brittany would know she had friends constantly looking out for her. But no matter how hard Santana tried to convince herself having the diva around would be a good thing, she couldn't help but feel like her reputation was plunging to the depths of the Earth like a piano being pushed out of a plane five miles above the ground (sound effects and all).

Sighing heavily, Santana shifted her weight from one leg to the other and began tapping her foot at a steady rhythm. She felt the hand clutched within her own instantly tighten as Brittany picked up on the Latina's distress. The blonde smiled to herself and leaned as close to Santana as humanly possible, whispering something only the brunette could hear. Upon receiving the message, Santana's features softened immensely and she nodded to her companion; an adoring smile slowly gracing her tan skin. The Dutch girl seemed satisfied with her accomplishment and happily allowed her head to fall onto her slightly smaller, slightly tanner, twin's shoulder.

Mercedes, who had been watching this transaction closely from behind, shook her head in utter bewilderment. She didn't understand how the girl allowing another human to touch her in such an affectionate way was the same girl who sent a 200 pound boy to the hospital with one punch. She couldn't figure out how the girl who was holding hands with _another_ girl was the same girl who destroyed the locker room just because someone accidentally brushed her arm. How was it this girl be so evil one minute and so tender the next? That was a question no one knew the answer too. Except Brittany.

It was obvious Brittany had this incredible power over the Latina that no one else has been able to acquire. When the dancer first grabbed Santana's hand in the middle of the cafeteria, Mercedes was certain the brunette would immediately pull away embarrassed. However, not only did Santana keep their bodies together, she proceeded to run her thumb side to side across the back of Brittany's hand. At first the diva thought she had a mild stroke and had come out of it with severely impaired vision. But when Santana didn't so much as flinch when Brittany's head ultimately landed on her shoulder, Mercedes knew the cheerleaders were in their own little world. It was clear the two were only focused on one another, and not focused on the rest of McKinley's student body milling about around them. They could have been transported to a display case in the middle of the mall and they wouldn't have noticed. The cheerleaders were so wrapped up in what the other was doing it was actually sorta… cute. But that didn't make any sense. Santana Lopez doing cute? That was like Mel Gibson doing sane!

Regardless of how adorable – or not – the scene before her was, the diva's stomach was growling and she wasn't about to risk passing out over a couple of love struck females.

"Hey!" Mercedes swatted at the blonde and brunette ponytails in front of her, "Lucy and Ethel! Let's a go! I'm starving. Line's a movin'."

Keeping her focus ahead of her so as not to disturb the peaceful dancer leaning against her body, Santana spoke firmly, "Just because I'm letting you stand next to me doesn't mean you have the right to speak."

"And just because you're busy having mental sex with Brittany doesn't mean you have the right to keep me from my tots."

At this the Latina whipped her body around so she was squared with her opponent. Luckily Brittany knew the outburst was coming and she safely picked her head up to avoid any damage. Since Santana still refused to let go of the blonde's hand, her right arm was crossed in front of her torso, blocking her from further advancing on the diva. Her normally brown eyes almost looked black as she hissed at the overly confident girl.

"Shut the fuck up Mercedes! Or I swear to god I will charter a jet to fly over a volcano and I will personally throw you into the molten magma."

"Your threats are like the sugar in a Pixie Stick," Mercedes informed, bringing her hands to her hips. "Delicious, and yet completely empty."

"Mercedes, if you do not crawl in a hole to die in five seconds I'll-"

"Santanaaaa," a soft voice cut through the declaration. "We talked about this."

The brunette steered her attention to the admonishing, yet lovable, mannerism she was receiving from her friend. Her own face contorted into an expression of pleading as she stomped her foot like a child. "But!"

"No buts. We do not threaten the lives of our friends."

"But!"

"No. Buts!"

"Yeah, Santanaaaa. No buts!" Mercedes mocked.

"Mercedes… we do not tease our friends either," Brittany reprimanded. "Now I want you both to say you're sorry."

"Why do _I_ have to apologize? ! She started it!" Santana whined.

The Dutch girl didn't say anything in response. She just raised a firm eyebrow informing Santana she meant what she said: _both_ girls had to say they were sorry.

"Ugh! Fine," the Latina heaved rolling her eyes. She looked down at her feet where the tip of one sneaker was playing with the other. Through a clenched jaw she reluctantly murmured, "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry that I…" Brittany helped her out.

"I'm sorry that I threatened to put your life in danger."

"Good. Now it's your turn," Brittany proclaimed looking at the diva.

Mercedes took a deep breath as she too found the floor to be rather fascinating. "I'm sorry that I teased you."

The three girls remained rooted to their spots in a strange, triangular, circlular type configuration. Santana and Mercedes had looked up from the ground and were now scowling at one another. Brittany, on the other hand, was beaming from ear to ear; happy with herself for alleviating the dispute. The trio didn't show any signs of moving until a very gutsy freshman cleared his throat behind Mercedes. She and Santana immediately faced the boy and, at the same time, smacked him upside the head. Once they had delivered the blow they all figured it was probably a good time to move up in the line and get their lunch.

Mercedes resumed her post of "Brittana Watch" as she witnessed the goings on between the two cheerleaders. Brittany just stood there grinning, hand still grasping onto the smaller girl's, as Santana wordlessly snatched up food for them both. There really wasn't any need for words considering the whole ordeal appeared to be completely routine – one that even the staff was familiar with. The first lunch lady they came to piled a gargantuan amount of tater tots onto one plate and created a goofy smiley with ketchup on another and handed them off to a very delighted Brittany. Santana instantly took the food so it wouldn't drop and kept moving down the line. The Latina then grabbed a plate of salad and held it out for the next lunch lady to pour on another three spoonfuls of croutons. Once she was satisfied with the amount of delicious chunks of bread she was given, Santana put the salad plate on her tray and continued to the dessert section. While the last lunch lady combined two pudding cups – one chocolate and one vanilla – into one, Santana picked up two spoons and two forks. With the lunch tray skillfully balanced in her left hand – her right was still surrendered to Brittany's – Santana led the way to the cash register. The final woman took the brunette's money (after knocking a dollar off the price) and then handed Brittany a Pascal the Chameleon sticker. After the Dutch girl thanked the necessary staff members for her lunch and prize, the cheerleaders made their way over to their usual table in the center of the cafeteria.

There was no need to look back to know that Mercedes was trudging along behind them. Under normal circumstances Santana would have bitched at her for even _thinking_ about sitting anywhere near their table, but the content expression on the dancer's face told her to keep her mouth shut. She knew it would make Brittany happy to have another guest sit with them, and there was no way she was going to keep her best friend from being happy – even if it meant her own enjoyment would suffer.

Mercedes sat down across from her fellow Glee members slash ex Cheerios and watched them begin their lunch. She couldn't help but smile at the two girls sharing a salad, using their outside hands to eat while their inside hands had yet to let go from the other's clutch. It was all just so precious the diva was certain she was about to shit a rainbow. These two _needed_ to become official… like now. There really wasn't any room for debate.

Dropping her fork and folding her hands together on the table, Mercedes broke the strangely comfortable silence, "Question."

Santana kept right on relinquishing any and all croutons to her blue eyed beauty, not even glancing up as she spoke, "Answer. Let's hope they match. Sixty-nine."

"That actually makes sense... What makes you guys the happiest?"

The Dutch girl stopped the hand that was about to grab a tater tot and looked quizzically over at her best friend, "You mean she doesn't know?"

"Know what…?"

"That Santana and I only need each other to be happy."

Brittany's statement elicited polar-opposite emotions from the other two girls. Mercedes felt like her heart was about to burst from fluffiness and she raised one hand to her chest, batting her eyelashes obnoxiously. Santana, on the other hand, felt her ears flare up immediately and she desperately tried to hide her face in the ketchup – positive her skin would blend in perfectly.

The reactions of her two friends went unnoticed by the blonde and she kept going, "Yeah. We're going to live together for the rest of our lives in a Malibu Dream House and be the happiest people on the planet together for forever. I thought everyone knew that."

"No, Britt. Not everyone is as smart as you," Santana remarked, her tone genuine.

"Wait," Mercedes held up a finger. "You guys have the rest of your lives planned out together?"

The brunette finally looked up from her plate to shoot a challenging look at the opposite girl. "Yeah so? What's it to you?"

"Nothing! I think it's very cute."

Brittany took in a sharp breath, her mouth immediately dropping open in shock. Her blue eyes flicked over to her Latina friend with worry and she prepared herself to have to hold the small girl back. But when she was confident Santana wasn't going to murder anyone (besides the fork that was just snapped in half), she leaned forward in order to whisper to Mercedes, "It's not _cute_, it's rav- rav-" she stopped to look back into brown eyes for guidance.

"Ravishing."

"It's ravishing. Santana doesn't _do_ cute."

"Oh, sorry. I think that's very _ravishing_." Mercedes picked up her fork again and went back to eating her salad as she continued to interrogate the two, "So? What else have you figured out?"

"Can we? ! Please? !" Brittany gasped nudging the smaller girl next to her, excitement written all over her face.

"Whatever," Santana shrugged her shoulders as she played with the tots in front of her.

"Go on! Tell her San!"

"You are perfectly capable of telling her yourself."

"But you tell it better than me! Pleeeeaaassseee? !" The dancer's brow turned down into a pout and her blue eyes begged the tan girl to give into her plea. When a smile quickly flashed across the Latina's face, and brown eyes connected with her own, Brittany knew she had won yet again. She always wins.

"Well… once we graduate we're gonna move to Malibu and live in a Barbie Dream House with pink shingles and blue shutters. Our yard is will always be open to any bird, cat or unicorn that wants to play with us. We'll have a slide that goes from the very top floor of our house all the way down to the giant ball pit in the living room. And every night we'll curl up on the couch, drinking hot chocolate-"

"With _extra_ marshmallows!"

"Yes extra marshmallows," Santana laughed. "Because what have I always said?"

"If there aren't extra marshmallows in your hot chocolate you might as well be drinking liquid poop," Brittany stated matter-of-factly.

"Exactly. Now. Where was I?'

"Every night…"

"Oh yeah. Every night we're gonna curl up on the couch, drinking hot chocolate… with _extra_ marshmallows… while we watch reruns of MASH. And in the winter to keep warm we'll both be underneath our gigantic Winnie the Pooh blanket; the one that we'll keep hanging on the wall when we're not using it. And-"

"Don't forget about the duck pond! And the throne! And the bank! And the wallpaper!" The Dutch girl was literally jumping in her seat as she rattled off more facts about their house.

"Would you like to tell the rest of the story? Or do you think I can finish?"

"Sorry. Continue." Brittany sucked in her lips to prove she would try her hardest to remain silent while Santana went on describing their life together.

"Thank you! On the top floor of our house, right in front of the slide, there's going to be a huge, golden throne made of tires for you and me to sit on. You'll get the cushioned part while I sit at the very top. That way we can rule our kingdom together, but I'm still high enough so I can protect you from any evil. There'll also be a giant window looking out at the huge duck pond I built you so you can have as many ballads as you want. Our basement will be a bank that way I can rob it whenever I feel like it. And our wallpaper will be made entirely out of pictures we took together. We'll have _thousands_ of pictures of you and me covering every inch of our house. And it'll just be the two of us."

"Right," the blonde nodded in confirmation. "No mean jocks to make fun of us, or stupid teachers telling us what to do. Just you and me. Forever and ever."

"Forever and ever." Santana also nodded her head as she spoke her last words quietly.

Throughout the entire exchange the two girls never broke eye contact. Even now that the story was over they were still staring deeply into one another, a love sick grin cemented to both their faces. It was obvious that while Santana was recounting their _very_ thought out future plans, the cheerleaders were once again unaware of their surroundings. They had entered their own world for a second time in five minutes, so lost they were completely oblivious to the other students sitting within ear shot. Mercedes didn't want to interrupt the little moment they had going on, but it was getting hard to ignore what she could only describe as "sex eyes".

Bringing a hand up to her mouth, the diva coughed obnoxiously. The sudden noise startled the duo opposite her and they immediately shook their heads and picked up where they left off in their mission to fill their stomachs.

"That," Mercedes pointed out. "Was friggin' _cute_."

She suddenly hollered in pain when she felt a searing jolt run up her shin. Her dark eyes narrowed at the brown ones before her as the Latina continued eating like she hadn't just kicked Mercedes underneath the table. Once the pain in her leg subsided to a dull sore, Mercedes followed suit of the cheerleaders. The three girls finished off their meal and eventually made their way to the choir room for mid-day rehearsal.

When the three girls made it to the choir room they discovered they were the first ones there. Upon entering the deserted room there was only one thought on their minds: _Thank God we got here before Artie._

Brittany especially was glad they had arrived before her wheelchair bound ex boyfriend. She didn't want to deal with him waiting for her outside the door, preventing her from getting to rehearsal with other, nicer, people. Being the first one there meant she was able to sit where she wanted to sit and talk to the people she wanted to talk to. Now Artie couldn't force her to sit next to him instead of Santana, and he couldn't pull her away if she was already in the middle of a conversation. The Dutch girl breathed a sigh of relief knowing she was in the company of her friends and that Artie was nowhere in sight.

The cheerleaders linked pinkies and instantly moved to sit in the back of the room, reclaiming their original position at the beginning of the year. How Brittany missed sitting back here. In this spot she could hide from Mr. Schuester's gaze, she could draw pictures on her and Santana's notebooks and she could just watch everyone. But because Artie's wheelchair couldn't make it up the steps, she was forced to sit in the front. Where Mr. Schue was more likely to call on her, where she couldn't doodle because she would get caught and where everyone could watch _her._

While Brittany and Santana took their seats, Mercedes immediately went to the opposite end of the room. She always made it a habit to sit as far away from the Latina as possible so as not to get caught in her line of fire. The diva was in the process of moving a chair even farther away from the cheerleaders when a hesitant voice cut through the silence.

"Hey Mercedes?"

When she looked up she was met with the apprehensive face of Santana Lopez. Mercedes didn't know what to make of this girl so she just stood there and allowed the brunette to continue on her own.

"Do you… do you think you could sit with us?"

Santana wanted to say more so it didn't look like she was inviting Mercedes to be her friend (which she _wasn't_). She wanted to explain the sole reason as to why she asked the diva to sit with them, but she didn't want to upset the blonde next to her. She couldn't say that she'd feel much better with an extra person there to protect Brittany because that would make it seem like Brittany needed protection. She couldn't say that she didn't want to be alone with Brittany when Artie came in because that would make it seem like something bad was going to happen when he did. She couldn't say any of that (even though that's what she was thinking) because she knew it would frighten the dancer. And if there was one thing Santana _refused_ to do it was to frighten Brittany. The Latina knew speaking her mind would cause the blonde to become unnecessarily worried, and that was the last thing on Earth she could see herself doing.

Thankfully Mercedes understood what Santana couldn't say and made her way over to sit on the other side of Brittany. The three girls – who remember are _not_ all friends – made small talk as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. Brittany took the time to inform Mercedes all about the scavenger hunt Santana had set up for her the previous weekend. Throughout their conversation, the diva would randomly interject in order to inform Santana (in a not so subtle manner) that she needed to ask Brittany out already. Every statement warranted a death look from the smallest of the three; though it did nothing to prevent Mercedes from calling dibs on maid of honor (for both brides), the namesake of their first child and the official announcer for their coming out day.

As the three girls continued their conversation, the rest of the Glee club slowly trickled into the room. Everyone that walked in did a slight double take upon seeing the odd huddle in the back of the room. It wasn't every day Santana Lopez let an outsider into her bubble, and a few were admittedly a little jealous the Latina hadn't chosen them.

While the other members raised an eyebrow in confusion at the unexpected group, the cheerleaders plus one dropped theirs in relief at every face that wasn't Artie's. They knew the boy would show up eventually but it was nice to prolong the confrontation as much as possible.

When Tina and Mike were the next ones to enter the choir room, Santana returned her attention to the heated debate she was having with Mercedes about whether or not Chinese Water Torture should be allowed in schools. She was just about to flick the diva's forehead to prove how affective that form of torture could be when she suddenly felt the bones in her hand breaking from being squeezed to death. The brunette looked over at the girl to her right and noticed Brittany's pale skin becoming alarmingly paler. Santana saw that strange flicker of fear completely overtake blue eyes, in effect turning them a shade of gray. The brunette began to worry when the flicker turned into a moment which turned into a lifetime.

Well… actually it was more like five seconds. But time always seemed to move slower whenever Brittany was concerned.

The Latina turned her head so she could follow Brittany's line of sight. Her heart stopped cold when she noticed the boy sitting in the doorway, his fingers gripping the wheels of his lame excuse to not walk.

Artie had taken one look at the trio in the back and the expression on his face instantly hardened. He forcefully rolled himself over so he was directly in front of them (though they were on a higher level than he was). Once he unclenched his jaw, Artie spoke harshly at the Dutch girl.

"Brittany! Get over here! I need to talk to you!"

"If you have something to say to her she can listen from where she is."

"Mercedes, stay out of it. I wasn't talking to you."

"No? But I was talking to _you_. You have no right coming in here and ordering Brittany around like that." The diva was about to get up from her seat and have a smack down with this misogynistic jerk when a tan arm shot out and kept her grounded. Mercedes looked at Santana, brown eyes telling her to be the bigger person, and she ultimately relaxed back into her chair.

"Look Artie," the Latina hissed down at him, "you already made a fool of yourself in the hallway. So why don't you just save yourself the embarrassment and roll away like a big boy. Okay? Get it through your ridiculously ginormous head: Brittany. Is. Done. With. You. So you need to leave her alone."

"Too bad. She's still my girlfriend and if I want to talk to her than she has to listen!"

"NO!" Brittany suddenly shrieked above the steady yammering of the rest of the Glee club.

Up until this point the other members had done a fairly decent job of ignoring the dispute happening in the corner, trying their best to give the bickering couple their privacy. But when the dancer uncharacteristically spoke up, they did nothing to hide the fact that they were now hanging on to every word.

"I already told you I'm _not_ your girlfriend anymore! I don't want to talk to you right now! And… and Santana told me that I don't have to do anything that I don't want to!"

Artie tilted his head back and scoffed, "I should have known. _Santana_ told you to do something and you're listening to her once again. You know, this further proves my point yesterday. I seriously don't know why you're not in retard classes."

"WHOOOOAAAA!"

Once Artie's final sentence passed his lips, the entire room held their hands up in shock and collectively pronounced their horror. Every single one of them was absolutely frozen, gaping at the wheelchair boy. No one could believe they had heard correctly and Rachel was the first to inform him of their misunderstanding.

"Excuse me? Could you please do me the honors of repeating what you just said? Because even though I have impeccable hearing and can pick up on the slightest change in decibel, I'm fully confident I just heard you wrong. I thought you said something about Brittany belonging in _retard_ classes?"

"Dude," Mike dead-panned. "Not cool."

Quinn was the next person to scold the boy, "You don't say stuff like that to Brittany. _Especially_ Brittany."

"And with Santana right there?" Tina questioned.

"Yeah man! What the hell is your problem? !" Finn roared.

It was clear the blonde had the support of the entire room, and Santana couldn't help the triumphant grin that appeared on her face. And as she watched the visibly flustered boy continue to cower in his chair while the rest of the Glee club proceeded to hound him, her smile only got bigger. The Latina had always known Brittany was secretly everybody's favorite person on the team. How could she not be? She was always so light-hearted and considerate and she always made it a point to give everyone a compliment each time she saw them. But simply knowing this and actually seeing it were two completely different things. In that moment, Santana suddenly found herself crossing out a lot of names on her hit list.

"Guys. Come on now," Artie stammered out nervously. "You know I didn't mean it."

"Then why'd you even say it in the first place?" Sam was now the one to overpower the other voices that were still yelling.

"I... I don't know. I'm sorry." Artie turned back towards the blonde, "Brittany, I'm sorry. Please. I just really need to talk to you." He began rolling his chair towards the girl, not realizing she had just shrunken back in her seat out of fear.

Thankfully, her motion didn't go unnoticed by the boy who had remained quiet the whole time. Before this moment he was too livid to even open his mouth, but when he saw what Artie's advance was doing to Brittany, something inside of him snapped.

"HEY!" Puck barked springing up out of his seat and taking two strides over to the offender, kicking over a chair in the process. Grabbing onto the arm rests of Artie's wheelchair Puck leaned forward so he was practically biting the other boy's head off. "Are you fucking _deaf_? ! Maybe _you're _the one who needs the retard classes! Leave. Brittany. ALONE!"

On the last word Puck shoved Artie's wheelchair backwards with all his strength. Luckily for the petrified douche bag Mr. Schuester had just walked in the room. He was able to intercept the rolling transportation device and stop Artie before he crashed into a bunch of music stands. When the teacher had a firm grip on the handle bars he looked up at the rest of the room. Seeing how the entire group was clumped together, their bodies squared and ready to strike, Mr. Schue knew he had just missed something.

Raising an eyebrow and speaking in his trademark lost school-boy voice; the curly haired man addressed his students, "Hey guys… What's going on?"

"Nothing," Artie spat beneath him.

"Mr. Schue?" Rachel was quick to raise her hand. "If I may intrude? I would just like to inform you that it wasn't at all _nothing_ that just took place here but a definite something. A something that has left one of our own exponentially distraught. Might I suggest a brainstorm session? That way we can all examine the proper means of disposing Mr. Arthur Abrams."

The rest of the group instantly began shouting remarks of agreement. But before the situation could become any more enraged than it already was, a faint whimper traveled over the raging high schooler's backs, forcing their mouths shut. The group instantly parted like the Red Sea to reveal the three girls who hadn't said a word since the blow up.

Mercedes had one hand resting on the dancer's knee and the other running through blonde hair. Brittany's face was buried in the crook of Santana's neck but she couldn't hide the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. Santana's arms were wrapped around Brittany's body and the Latina was rocking in place ever so slightly, whispering into the broken girl's ear. The only thing the group could make out over Brittany's cries were the words: _You're not a retard_.

The rest of the room all started looking around at each other gaping as they slowly grasped the fact that Brittany understood. She understood the comments and looks she got from other people in regards to the way she thinks. She understood what they meant when they rolled their eyes or shook their heads and she didn't like it. Her teammates had an extremely difficult time suppressing the overwhelming feeling of guilt that descended upon the room as they watched Santana and Mercedes continue to try and comfort the normally happy-go-lucky girl.

Mr. Schue was the first person to break ranks and he cautiously approached the trio.

"Brittany? Are you okay?" He knelt down in front of her.

The blonde slowly removed her head from Santana's shoulder but kept her gaze fixated on her lap and away from the concerned teacher. Wiping her nose with the back of her hand she nodded affirmatively. "Uh huh. Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay. Do you think one of you can tell me what happened?"

"ARTIE SAID –!" Rachel began.

"One of you three," Mr. Schue pointed to the cheerleaders and the self proclaimed diva.

Brittany sniffed loudly, her blue eyes finally meeting the sympathetic ones in front of her. She simply shrugged her shoulders and stated as best she could without her voice wavering too much, "It's nothing Mr. Schue."

"It's okay, you can tell me. I just want to help. What happened?"

"She said it was nothing!" Santana snapped.

Even though her voice was harsh, her body language was completely relaxed. She was propped against the Dutch girl and was trailing her fingertips up and down the back of Brittany's neck. Keeping her motion steady, the brunette continued to spit at the self proclaimed adult, "Look. If you want to help then you can tell that son of a _bitch_ over there to stay away from Brittany. And if you want that lousy piece of shit to be in our number for Regional's then you better tell him to watch himself. Cause he's dead."

Under normal circumstances Mr. Schue would have reprimanded the Latina for her choice of words and the order in which she chose to say them. But the way she was acting made him forget all about lecturing her. He couldn't help but feel a sense of fatherly pride as he watched Santana close her eyes, press her forehead to Brittany's temple, and whisper more words of comfort to the still crying cheerleader.

Mr. Schue knew he needed to say something though. There was no way he'd be able to just let that kind of language go unnoticed; nor could he let the silence go on any longer. So saying he was glad when Mercedes suddenly cut in would be the understatement of the century.

"Yeah and if you want to help you might want to tell _him_ to stay away from that basket over there," the diva pointed towards the prop department's snake charmer basket she borrowed after McKinley's Drama Club performed _Aladdin_. "Santana and I thought we'd give him a little surprise. But he might not like it."

Artie nervously glanced over at the corner of the room to which Mercedes was referring to and gulped. Knowing Santana there was most likely a real snake inside. As much as he wanted to look away from the object in question, it was the only thing not visibly stabbing him with daggers. He couldn't bring himself to look back at the rest of the group. He knew they were all pissed at him and most likely wanted him dead. They were probably even praying there was a deadly reptile in the basket that would pop out and eat him.

"Okay," Mr. Schue ran a hand through his hair. It was obvious nothing was going to get done during rehearsal after what apparently _didn't_ just happen. "Let's just call it a day. I'll see you all tomorrow." And with that he walked out of the room. Even he subconsciously left Artie to fend for himself. No one made Brittany cry. No one.

The rest of the team had circled around Brittany protectively while she was still embraced by Santana and Mercedes. They all shot death glares at the wheelchair boy and quickly exited the room in one big huddle. As they passed Artie, those who weren't too ashamed to look at him took the time to either shake their heads disapprovingly or go so far as to smack him in some way or another. One thing was for sure: he was officially the most hated person at McKinley.

Knowing he couldn't just remain in the choir room for the rest of the day – as much as he wanted to – Artie eventually began rolling away to head for his next class. On the way out the door he stopped and looked over at the corner of the room. He tentatively approached the basket and sat there, debating whether or not he should open it. Making an executive decision that he wasn't going to let the contents of the basket remain a mystery, he leaned over in his seat and slowly reached out to lift the top. Suddenly the school's known contortionist, Ysubassoon (as she liked to be referred to as), leaped out of the snake charmer's basket, straightened up to her full five feet, three inch height, and punched Artie in the face. With a satisfied grin she then whispered into her shirt cuff, "Mission accomplished" and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Actually… she didn't so much disappear as she did run away. And it wasn't really a puff of smoke. She just sprayed Artie with her perfume.

Coughing up the Victoria Secret fragrance, Artie dropped his head on the back of his chair defeated. There was no _way_ he was going to go to sleep tonight. Why? Santana Lopez was going to kill him.

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**So what did you guys think? On a scale from one to Chris Brown how much do y'all want Santana to destroy Artie?**

**And ysubassoon I hope you liked your little blurb! I wrote it verbatim. Haha**

**Sorry Rachel didn't sound like her normal self. I have no idea how to write her!**

**Hey! Wanna know a secret? Click the review button and I'll tell ya!**


	7. There Seems To Be a Pattern

**I'm so sorry it took me so long to post this chapter. But let me tell you, it was definitely the most challenging thing for me to write in the history of my writing. It is also the longest chapter by far! So please be aware of that and don't hate me for the obnoxious length!**

**I was so determined to get this up before Tuesday's episode so I could miss the slew of fics by passionate Brittana shippers. So I apologize if it seems rushed.**

**Time for a mid-story disclaimer. I do not own Glee. I do not own the characters. And I do not own the actors. I wish I did. But we can't always get what we want now can we? The only thing I do own is the story. So please don't steal it or I'll be very sad.**

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_You're awake. You don't want to be, but you're awake. The long shadows being projected across your floor tell you that it's night time. Or is it really early in the morning? You can't tell. All you know is that the sun isn't out._

_You arch your back so your stomach is sticking up and stretch your body to its fullest potential. Blinking your eyes you try to rid yourself of that rather annoying early morning fog. But after a few heavy blinks your vision has yet to clear. You rub your eyes to try and remove anything the sandman might have left behind, but still no change. Looking around, while continuously batting your eyelids, you see your entire room is dark and fuzzy. It's utterly impossible for you to focus on anything. You can't help but feel like you're in a Claritin commercial. But last time you checked you didn't have allergies. So then why does it look like you're looking through a haze?_

_Pushing your body up with your hands you look over at the clock resting atop your nightstand. The lights from the digital numbers expand into one blur and you can only guess that the time is red o'clock. You pick it up and hold it as close to your face as possible, hoping the change in proximity will give you a clearer picture. But no matter where you hold the clock in front of you, you still can't make out what time it says. Letting out an involuntary huff you slam the object of frustration back down onto your nightstand. The force of the impact causes a picture frame to topple over face down. You immediately reach out and place it upright again. When the image becomes visible, your hand lingers on the frame until you ultimately bring it to rest on your knees. You're not sure how it got there, but as you continue to look at the photo you're holding, you become very aware of the smile that has spread across your face. It doesn't surprise you though. This has always been your favorite picture._

_It's a picture of you and your best friend at Sea World when you were eight. You were both sporting the same exact outfit: bright orange shorts, yellow tank tops and yellow Sea World visors on your heads. You're holding up the most important girl in the universe on your back because even then you were taller. Her arms are spread out as wide as they can go and you both have the biggest smiles on your faces. That was the year you had a girls' vacation with your mothers in Florida. No boys allowed. That was the happiest you've been in your entire life. There wasn't a single moment when you weren't attached to your best friend. You even remember both your mother and hers having a near impossible time getting you two to separate long enough so they could take a picture of you guys on either side of the fake whale. Still… she somehow ended up on your back and there was nothing your moms could do about it. _

_As you remain completely fixated with the picture, a wave of emotions floods through you and there's no stopping the smile from getting significantly bigger. You smile because you know you're always going to be with her for the rest of your life. You smile because she's the only person you've ever loved this way. You smile because you know that you'll never be alone as long as you have her. You smile because as you look at this picture everything is perfectly clear. You can see everything from the slightly darker roots of your hair to the tiny birthmark on her shoulder. You can see the excitement of your future in her eyes and you know the same look is present in your own. You can see everything that needs to be said in the faces of the two happiest eight year olds on the planet._

_Sighing contently you finally return the picture to its original position. When you look up, you frown. You frown because the rest of your room is blurry. You still don't know why your eyesight is so poor this morning (or is it night?) but you assume it can't get any worse so you hop out of bed to finish up your day (or are you only starting it?). _

_Walking out into the hallway you proceed to rub your eyes feverishly, desperately trying to make the fog disappear. You don't know why your eyes aren't working but it's really starting to piss you off. And you don't get angry. So this emotion is all very new to you._

_Dragging your feet across the thick carpet you continue to make your way down the hall towards the stairs. You freeze near the top step and feel your eyebrows furrow as you look over at the gaping hole in the banister. A huge section of the railing has been removed and you can't help but feel like something's missing. Like something should be there but isn't. Almost as if something was… _forgotten_. _

_You quickly dismiss the matter and chalk it up to the fact that your brain isn't working properly either. Your blurred vision still hasn't improved and you can't help but think your body didn't turn on the right way this morning (or night). That's the only thing that could possibly explain why you can't focus on anything, or why it is so dark. Well … the darkness is most likely due to the fact that it was the middle of the night (or super early in the morning). _

_Making your way down to the next level of your house (there seems to be a few extra than you remember), you pause at the landing. In front of you is a small corner table with a single picture of you and the same friend displayed on top of it. This time you're twelve. You're sitting on your friend's lap, her arms wrapped around your slender waist, and there's a giant, red bow taped to your head. It was her birthday and you were her present. That was a good day. That was the day she punched a boy because he wanted to marry you. That was also the day you guys promised that no matter what happened nothing would ever change between the two of you. Since then, you have done everything in your power to make sure you've kept that promise. Even though you know promises are meant to be broken. _

_After placing a loving hand on the photo you turn back to face the rest of your distorted house and away from the crystal clear image. You slowly make your way to the bottom floor. As you continue walking sluggishly down the stairs you notice something is off about the walls. At first you brush it off as nothing. But then you realize that's exactly what it was: _nothing_. There is _nothing_ on the walls. No decorations, no pictures, no wallpaper even. Just an endless amount of gray paint. Gray paint that sucked out all the happiness in the world and left you feeling heavyhearted. _

_Suddenly you feel a cold breeze dance across your skin and you wrap your arms tightly around your chest to keep the house from stealing your warmth as well. But you still can't hold back the shiver that rattles your body. However, you know it's not from the cold. It's from something else. Something lonelier than the cold. What it is exactly you're not sure of. But you know you don't like it._

_You finish your way down the stairs and when you come to the bottom floor you take the time to examine the far corner of the room – the corner beneath the hole in the banister. A relatively big, square pit was located on the floor in the corner of interest. You think this pit would be good for something but you can't quite put your finger on it. And for some reason you feel yourself being drawn to it. On your way over to the empty, seemingly useless box, you come to an abrupt halt as something else catches your eye. _

_Next to you, at eye level, is probably the only thing attached to the wall. It's a simple, brown mantle piece stretching across a span of five feet. But it's not the mantle itself that has garnered your attention; it's what's on the mantle. _

_Sitting on top of the wooden feature is a row of photos. You step forward to examine the first one and smile when you see what it's of. You're not sure exactly when it was taken, but you're ecstatic that it was. The two of you are sitting together on the couch you know as your own. Her legs are draped over yours while you have your feet perched on the coffee table. Neither one of you is looking at the camera. You're too preoccupied being lost in each other's eyes. You can only imagine what the conversation you were having at the time was, but by the looks on your faces you assume it didn't matter. _

_Moving down the line you inspect the next photo. Here the two of you are standing next to each other, looking at something the camera can't see. You have one hand extended out in front of you pointing, and she's waving her arms above her head. You can't help but lose a little bit of the smile that graced your lips when you realize you're not touching. Not even a slight hip grace or anything. This was the first time in a long time you can ever remember not being connected to your best friend in some way or another. You can't think of any logical explanation as to why there's no contact between your bodies, so you simply keep looking at the remaining photographs._

_The next picture only confuses you even more. You and a group of your friends are lumped around a giant trophy. Conquering smiles are plastered on everyone's faces and some even have their mouths open in a victorious cry. But what confuses you is where you're standing in the picture in relation to the one person that matters. You've positioned yourself on the complete opposite end of the group as your friend – the one you can't imagine not being in physical contact with. Not only are you not touching her, you guys are practically in different time zones. You can't help but notice, looking at yourself in the picture, that the camera inadvertently caught something it wasn't supposed to catch. Even though your smile is as wide as everyone else's around you, your eyes are different. The snapshot captured a slight flicker of fear dancing across them. You don't know why it's there in the first place. You're clearly surrounded by friends who care about you. There's no reason for you to be so scared. So then why are you? You don't get it. You don't get any of it._

_But it's the last image that makes your brow furrow significantly. In this picture you're sitting at a table and have your arms wrapped around a guy's neck. Once again, you are smiling. Once again, your smile is wrong. Now there is nothing in your eyes. No joy, no love, not even fear. They're just… empty. The smile that you're sporting is forced. As you continue to look at the picture of yourself you begin to feel abandoned and alone. You can't explain why, but something about the way your arms are draped over the shoulders of someone who doesn't fit into the crevices of your own body isn't sitting right with you. You're about to turn away when something in the photo immediately pops out. There's a figure moving in the background and you realize it's your best friend. Her brown hair flying up off her shoulders, catching the man-made wind, and one leg connected to a red skirt are the only parts of her visible. She's trying to get out of the shot but was captured mid-movement. The sudden motion caused her appearance to be blurred by the camera. What you can't understand is why she doesn't want to be in the picture in the first place. You guys always want to take pictures together. Why is she making a big deal of getting out of your way? And why are your arms wrapped around the wrong person?_

_Finally taking your eyes off the photo and turning back at the rest of your house, you almost fall over with the unexpected change of perception. After looking at the pictures with immense clarity you are caught off guard by the fuzziness of the rest of your surroundings. Everything is just as blurry as your friend in that last picture. You still don't know why the rest of the world is in such a haze. You feel your heart being pulled back to the pictures on the wall, knowing you will be met with assurance that your vision will not be impaired. As much as you want to turn back and stare at the pictures all day, something stops you from doing so. Something has stopped you from latching on to the one definite thing that is keeping you grounded. Something has stopped you from smiling again. Something has stopped your heart dead._

_You never noticed it before but there is a soft humming noise emanating throughout the room behind you. The constant drone of the television in the background was pushed to the back of your mind while you were looking at the display on the wall. It wasn't until you diverted your attention from the one thing keeping you stable that you noticed what had been happening around you the entire time. Tentatively swiveling your body 180 degrees, your eyes land on a new image that makes your blood run cold. A cold sweat layers your toned body and now that your heart has started working again, you feel it racing within your chest. As your gaze remains fixated on the living room in front of you, the chill that made you shake on the stairs comes back with a vengeance. Looking at the two figures sitting on the couch together makes the heartache you felt before come flooding back for a second round. Looking at the people sitting perfectly still next to each other makes you feel empty, broken, and alone. You start to feel as if you can never be happy again. It's not right… looking at these two. Everything about them is wrong. It just is. End of story._

_As you chew your bottom lip in concentration you start to feel your feet moving beneath you. You look down and, sure enough, they are placing themselves one in front of the other so that you're walking towards the couch. You want to stop. You want to tell your feet to cease and desist any and all motion. You want to turn around, run back up the stairs, passed the missing banister, into your room, onto your bed, close your eyes and not wake up until you're certain the fog will be gone. But you can't. You can't find the voice to tell yourself you don't want to keep heading towards them. You can't stop yourself from seeing who they are. You can't. But you are._

_You're a quarter of the way to the couch when your breathing starts to pick up. You are halfway to the couch when your teeth begin gnawing at your lip. You're three-fourths of the way to the couch when your body starts to shake. You're at the couch when you feel like you're about to pass out. You literally have to latch onto the top of the backboard in order to keep yourself upright. Now that you've gotten closer there's something oddly familiar about the girl before you. Looking at the back of her head, you realize you recognize it. But you can't quite put your finger on who she is. You want to see her face, to identify this person, but you're afraid of what you might find. Or rather, what you might not find._

_It's a few moments before you finally gather the courage you need to step in front of the couch so you can face the sitting couple head on. Filling your lungs up with as much air as possible, you swallow hard and take that final step you have been dreading since you became aware of the extra presence in the room. _

_You barely have time to plant your feet before you stumble backwards a few steps, bringing a quivering hand to your chest to try and keep your heart from bursting through your shirt. Your breathing has escalated to an alarming pace and you're pretty sure there should be a law against breathing this fast. Your blurred vision miraculously gets worse as you desperately try to focus in on the girl sitting on the couch. But even though you were looking through a cloud, there was no question as to who you were looking at._

_You know her. You recognize the girl you're staring at head on. You know the person curled up with their body leaning away from their partner. You know who is holding their head up with a fist jammed against their temple._

_It's you._

_You're situated on the sofa watching _Frasier – _a show you don't even like. But how does that work? You're standing right here in front of the couch. How can you be in two places at the same time? You already know the answer: you can't. It's physically impossible. So how are you currently looking at your own face without the help of a mirror? It just doesn't make any sense._

_No. What doesn't make any sense is her body language. Her legs are curled up in front of her, making her normally tall, confident physique appear small and insignificant. One of her – or really you should say one of your – arms is wrapped around her knees cradling a dark green mug in one hand while the other is holding her head up. The smell of chocolate is a comfort to you but you quickly gain back the little uneasiness you did loose when you discover the cup is empty to anything but hot chocolate. There's not a single marshmallow floating at the top. But the lack of edible pillows does nothing to your emotions compared to what happens when you look back up._

_It's your face you're looking at, but it's a stranger that you see. Even through the fog you know this person isn't you – not really. _

_She's aged. There are lines around her eyes and mouth. Your normally shiny hair is almost colorless on her head. Even though she's not that much older than you are now, the misery radiating from her heart makes her seem ten times your current age. But that's not the worst part. _

_She's too sad. There's no light in her eyes and her mouth is turned down at the corners. You know there isn't an ounce of happiness in her body and that terrifies you. It terrifies you because you don't want this for yourself. You don't want to ever frown because you're afraid you might get stuck in that position for the rest of your life. Seeing yourself listlessly plopped on the couch, drinking liquid poop, watching _Frasier, _with not even a glimmer of hope in your eyes is enough to make you black out. You don't want this for yourself. You _can't_ have this for yourself. You _refuse_ to have this for yourself. You have to make things right before you wind up being trapped in this hell for eternity. Opening your mouth to scream at the girl in front of you to get up and get her life back, you shove all the air out of your lungs to deliver the message and…_

_Nothing._

_You try again. _

_Still nothing. Not a single sound has escaped your throat. She still has no idea that you're standing right in front of her. You try waving your arms frantically in front of her face, but her eyes are still glued to the television, completely unaware of the dance you're doing to get her attention. You keep shouting at her but no matter how loud you think you're shouting you're still unable to make a sound. She hasn't even blinked and you're afraid she's really just a statue. A part of you suspended in time. Incapable of moving until she finds her happiness again. _

_So it comes as a total shock to you when she begins to stir in her seat. At first you think she has finally seen you – like you've seen her – but she only looks over to the person positioned next to her. She holds her gaze for a little while longer before sighing sadly and turning back towards the show. You, however, are still gaping at the other person._

_This is the first time you've chanced a look at the figure sitting to your right and you realize he is your high school boyfriend. Unlike you, he hasn't changed since the last time you saw him. He's still as hard and emotionless as he ever was, and there's still that evil doll look masking his face. You squint your eyes in an effort to see passed the insensitivity in his own, but your blurred vision prevents you from doing so. Still, you see what you wish you didn't. It gives you the same feeling of dread that it gave you when you were in high school. Like if you continue to look at him he will continue to steal your happiness. _

_But what you don't get is why you're still with him in the first place. You were supposed to have dumped his ass by now. You were supposed to be with the one you love. Not him. It was never supposed to be _him_. _

_You feel the corners of your eyes start to prick as you continue to look down at the couple. This isn't how things are supposed to be. The walls aren't supposed to be bare. The house isn't supposed to be void of all cheerfulness, joy and love. You're supposed to be happy. You're supposed to be living the rest of your life with the one person that makes you feel things you never thought you could feel. You're not supposed to be sitting on a couch watching the wrong TV show next to the wrong person. You're not supposed to be with him. You're supposed to be with _her!

_Tears are now silently streaming down your face and you stagger backwards, tripping over your own feet in the process. This can't be your future. It just can't be. You refuse to believe that this is what you have to look forward to: A life without _her.

_You try. You really do. You try so hard to come up with anything that could be worse than what you're witnessing. But you can't. There is nothing on this planet that could possibly be any worse than being with someone that isn't her. You used to think if you were alone on the inside it didn't matter who you were with on the outside, because being alone with someone is better than being alone all by yourself. But now you know you were wrong. You'd rather be shut off from the rest of the world if it meant you didn't have to spend the rest of your life with the wrong person. _

_This wasn't part of the plan!_

_Your cries soon become angry in your feeble attempts to once again get the you sitting on the couch to wake up from this nightmare and change things. But try as you might, nothing is getting through to her – to you. You should have known. It didn't work the last time. Why should it work now just because your emotions are even more heightened?_

_You're about to give up and crumple to the ground when suddenly there is laughter echoing throughout the otherwise silent house. Immediately your ears perk up and you stand straighter than you ever have in your entire life. You know that laugh. It's _her_ laugh. _

_The sound bounces off the walls around you and you whip your head towards every direction you hear it; frantically searching for the owner of what you believe to be the most beautiful sound in the world. But every time you turn to where the laughter was it would move again. The sound is all around you; constantly moving, constantly changing. It's too quick for you. You fear you'll never catch it. But then…_

_You see it. It happens in the blink of an eye but you still see it. A flash of red bolting behind a corner. It goes by so quickly you're amazed you hadn't missed it, and yet nothing has ever been clearer to you than that flash of red. You have no problem focusing in on the crimson uniform. After adjusting your eyes to look through a haze, the clarity of the retreating figure gives you a slight headache. But be that as it may, you're determined to confront this new being._

_Side stepping around the couch you begin to run towards the corner the red disappeared behind. You open your mouth to call out to it and are surprised sound actually escapes your body this time._

"_Hey!" you shout. _

_You're about to round the corner when you hear the sound above you. Now that the keeper of the laughter has been exposed, it's louder now. You jerk your head up just in time to see brown hair sweeping across the second floor by the banister. You know that hair. You'd recognize it anywhere. Even if it wasn't so clear that you could see every individual strand, you would be able to distinguish _her_ hair._

_It is her. It has to be. You feel your heart speed up and you know you have to get her before it's too late. Before she leaves you. You can't let her get away again._

_Sprinting up to the second floor, you cry into the blurred darkness, "Wait! Stop!" _

_You take the steps two at a time but it's no use. By the time you reach the landing she's gone, and so is the sound of her laughter. You grasp onto the hair on top of your head and hold your breath. You're afraid any sound you make will drown out the only sound that mattered. You strain your ears in order to hear something. Anything. Any sign that tells you she's still with you. You feel like you're standing in the same position for an eternity when finally you hear what you've been waiting for._

_A gentle voice carries your name down the hall behind you and you jerk your body around to face the source of the noise. At the very end of the hall, directly in front of you, is a closed door. A thin ray of light is seeping through the crack at the bottom and you know she's in there. Forcing your jellied legs to move, you race down the hall. But every step you take towards the door only makes it move farther back. No matter how hard you try, or how fast you run, you can't reach your destination. _

_You start to panic. You fear you'll never make it to her. You're terrified you'll lose her forever if you don't get to the other side of that door. All you need is to be able to see her. You just need to know that she still exists. If you see her face then you'll be fine. If you see her face then you'll know there's still something in your future worth living for. But how will you ever see her if you can't even make it to the damn door?_

"_SANTANA!" you scream trying to get her attention. "SANTANA OPEN THE DOOR!"_

_Nothing happens. Not a sound, not a budge… nothing._

_Your legs suddenly give out and you collapse onto the ground, crying into your hands._

"_Santana! Please! Just open the door! Don't leave me!"_

"I will never leave you."

_Stopping your cries you lift your head and look up at the door. It is now slightly ajar and the beam of light hits you, making you squint against the brightness. But you still can't see her._

"_Where are you? !" _

"I'm right here. Brittany, look at me. I'm right here."

"_Please! I need you!" _

_You're sobbing now, unable to control the flood of tears from wracking your body. You don't know why she won't just step out from behind the door. You don't know why she's hiding from you. You don't know why she's leaving you alone to be with _him._ You just don't know why. _

"_SANTANA!" you scream one last time before bending over your legs and smashing the floor with your fists._

"It's okay. You're okay. I've got you. I won't let you go I promise."

Santana had her arms wrapped around the thrashing blonde trying to hold the dancer securely to her chest. She positioned her mouth as best as she could next to the Dutch girl's ear, continuing to desperately try and rescue her best friend from the nightmare she was suffering from.

"Brittany, wake up. Okay? Come back to me. You're safe, Britt. Just come back to me."

All of this seemed way too familiar for the Latina. In that moment, with Brittany being held in her tight embrace, unsure of what was going on in the taller girl's head; Santana was brought back to the day at the water tower.

She swore to herself that she would never let anything like that happen again. She swore she would never let Brittany go through that kind of pain by herself for a second time. Because, even though Santana was with her while it was happening, the Latina couldn't help but feel like Brittany was still somewhat alone.

Brittany was keeping whatever was haunting her bottled up inside. Whether it was because she was ashamed, or wanted to be strong for herself, Santana didn't know. All she knew was that the Dutch girl hadn't said a word about what happened that day. When it was over, it was _over_ and Brittany would pretend like it never even happened. Every time the brunette so much as hinted at mentioning the event, Brittany would immediately steer the conversation in another direction. She refused to talk about it; about any of it. She refused to say anything that could possibly force her to relay the events of that day so the brunette could understand. And whenever Santana would simply ask her if she was okay, the dancer would get defensive and quickly say that she was fine and promise that nothing was wrong. But Santana knew she was lying. Santana always knew when Brittany was lying.

But what Santana didn't know was why the taller girl felt she needed to lie about something like this in the first place. Why was she keeping something so jeopardizing locked away to deal with by herself? Why wasn't she letting Santana in? Why was she choosing _now_ to decide she wanted to sort things out on her own? It frustrated the smaller girl to no end because this was the first time in the history of Brittany that she didn't have an immediate exit route for the situation. It killed her to see her best friend go through something this crippling and not be able to do anything about it. She was supposed to protect Brittany with everything she had. But she couldn't do that if she had no idea what she was supposed to be protecting her from.

Santana didn't know what was worse: The first time it happened at the water tower, where she almost lost the one thing keeping her alive because they had stopped breathing; or right now when it was happening again, except this time Brittany was screaming at the top of her lungs. Either way, the Latina had no idea what was harming her Dutch cheerleader.

As she frantically tried to pin the struggling blonde to her tan body, Santana couldn't help the few tears that escaped her brown eyes. There were no words to describe what was going through her mind while she held Brittany as tightly as she could. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw things. She wanted to destroy everything that got in her path because one of those things had to be the cause for all of this. A person doesn't just wake up one morning and decide they were going to have a panic attack for no reason. And with Brittany, there was _always_ a reason for everything that she did.

Santana wanted to do so much more than what she was currently doing, but all she could settle for right now was to simply try and wake her best friend.

"I'm right here. You're safe in your room. I've got you, okay? I've got you."

Brittany's screams miraculously grew louder and Santana had to circle her legs around the pale ones furiously kicking at the bed sheets. The Latina strained every muscle in her body in an effort to keep the dancer from throwing herself off the bed.

"BRITTANY IT'S OKAY! You just gotta wake up. If you wake up then the monsters will be gone, I promise! Just wake up for me! For Santana."

All at once the smaller girl felt the blonde's muscles start to go slack and her ears were no longer ringing from the blood curdling screams. Brittany had stopped thrashing about but she was still tossing her head back and forth while murmuring incoherent words. Santana's ragged breathing started becoming even when she thought she was at least getting through to the Dutch girl.

"Good. See? You're safe, Britt. Nothing is gonna hurt you. I won't let that happen. But you gotta wake up for me."

"Santana!" Brittany cried out. Her head started whipping side to side in a more feverish manner than it was a second ago.

"Brittany, it's me. Look! It's Santana. I'm right here and I need you to wake up. I need you to open your eyes so you can show me how blue they are. If you open your eyes I promise all the pain will go away."

"No it won't!"

"Yes it will! There is nothing to be afraid of! Brittany, please just calm down!"

By now the Dutch girl had finally burst through the prison her mind held her in, but it was clear she was still very much living the same nightmare. She had begun flailing her limbs around again in a conscious effort to escape Santana's grasp.

"No! Not until I fix it!"

"Fix what? !" the smaller girl grunted. Even though she was relatively strong, the energy she was expending in order to maintain her old on Brittany was definitely taking its toll on her pint sized body. "Britt, stop fighting me! You don't need to fix anything!"

"Yes I do, I need to fix it!" Using her elbows, Brittany pushed against Santana to try and get the brunette to release her. But when the Latina's grip only tightened, it made Brittany panic even more. "LET ME GO!" she shrieked. "Please just let me go!"

"No. I'm not letting you go until you tell me what's going on!"

"You wouldn't understand!" Brittany had started crying in her helpless attempts to break free from the death grip she was tangled in.

"Then make me understand! Brittany you _need_ to calm down! Just tell me what's wrong!"

The smaller girl barely avoided being head-butted in the face when the dancer threw her neck backwards with her latest cry of protest.

"Brittany STOP! Just talk to me! What do you need to fix so badly? !"

"I can't!"

"Yes you can! Tell me what you need to fix!"

"Santana, stop!" The usually fit girl was quickly running out of steam and was no longer able to fight as hard against the brunette's grasp as she was before. The amount of strength she was using with every scream, every kick, every attempted punch, was leaving her exhausted. Even though her efforts were growing weaker by the second, Brittany still did her best to resist Santana's clutch.

"Santana _please_ stop. Let me go. Just let me go. I need… I need to fix it."

She gave up. She finally gave up and allowed her body to go limp in the smaller girl's arms. She did nothing to stop her increasingly hysterical cries as she let everything go.

Santana immediately held the sobbing girl with a much deeper intensity in an effort to let Brittany know she wasn't going anywhere. She settled her right cheek on the top of Brittany's head so she was speaking directly into the blonde's ear. Her voice was soft, any panic or anger she may have had was masked with love and security.

"Britt, please. You need to tell me what is going through your head. I can't handle seeing you like this."

The Dutch girl only coughed out a strangled cry that broke Santana's heart. The Latina forced her own tears to stop trailing down her face. She knew she would never be able to help Brittany calm down if she was upset herself.

When Santana spoke again her voice was shaking more than the dancer in her arms, "I love you so much, B. Do you get that? I love you more than anything and _nothing_ you can say will ever make me love you less. I don't care what it is. But you need to tell me so that I can stop it from hurting so much. What do you need to fix so badly?"

"I… I… d-don't… I… he…" Brittany desperately struggled to get out through her cries.

"Baby calm down. Take a deep breath. You're fine. Just take a deep breath."

"H-He…"

"Who? Artie?" Santana felt the blonde nod vigorously against her own chest. "What about Artie?"

"I need… I need to fix things!"

"With _Artie_? !" the brunette couldn't believe what she was hearing. How could Brittany want to fix things with that douche bag after what he did to her? How can she still want to be with him after everything that has happened within the past week? "Why do you need to fix things with him of all people? He has done nothing but hurt you."

"I already told you, you don't understand!" Somehow the Dutch girl's cries managed to sound even more broken than before.

"You're right, I don't understand. I don't understand why you need to be with him so badly."

"I just don't want to be alone! I can't be alone! That's why I need to fix it!"

"What are you talking about? You're not alone! You have me and you'll always have me!"

"NO!" Brittany suddenly shrieked. With one last ditch effort, the dancer used what remaining strength she had to fling herself up so she was standing on the floor, facing the startled girl in the bed. "YOU'RE LYING!"

Santana froze in her spot, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide in shock. She had never seen this before. This Brittany, the one pacing back and forth with tears streaming down her face and screaming her brains out, was new. The Latina didn't know how to comfort this Brittany. She didn't know what she was supposed to say or do to calm the hysterical cheerleader. And that, more than anything, scared her to death: not knowing what to do.

She had never _not_ known what to do. Comforting Brittany had always been second nature to her. She could literally turn her brain onto auto pilot and still calm Brittany down in a fairly short amount of time. But this time she had no idea what she was supposed to do besides stay rooted to her spot, looking on at her best friend in horror.

"What are you -?"

"STOP IT!" the Dutch girl swung her arm, knocking over a bunch of hair products resting on her dresser onto the floor. "STOP LYING!"

"I'm not lying!"

"Yes you are! You're lying!"

"Brittany," Santana chanced as she hesitantly got off the bed so she was level with the other girl. "Calm down. Just calm down and tell me what's going on! Please?"

As much as she wanted to, the smaller girl refused to look away from the emotion-filled blue eyes before her. Any joy that would normally be there was obscured by fear, anger, hate, and sadness. She hated seeing what she saw in those eyes. It shouldn't be there. And she couldn't think of why it was.

Santana took an extremely tentative step towards her friend, though she was careful not to touch her in any way. This whole thing was too similar to what happened before. The last time Santana saw this look in Brittany's eyes, the dancer had a full-blown panic attack when their bodies ultimately made contact with one another. The Latina was petrified if she so much as grazed her best friend's skin she would be forced, yet again, to try and get air in Brittany's lungs. She couldn't do that again. So if there was anything she wanted to avoid, it was triggering the same reaction to physical contact.

But that didn't mean Santana didn't want to latch onto the hysterical girl in front of her and never let go. She wanted to embrace Brittany and tell her everything was going to be okay. She wanted to hold the blonde in her arms and feel how their bodies morphed into one being. She wanted that; she wanted that more than anything. But she was afraid. She was afraid she would end up hurting the blonde even more than she already was.

However, when Brittany suddenly collapsed to her knees and cried into her hands, Santana completely disregarded anything she was thinking before and instantly threw her arms around the broken girl. She began rocking back and forth, any efforts to stop her own tears forgotten as she cried along with Brittany.

"What is happening to you? Please tell me," the brunette begged. "You said you need to fix things with Artie? Well I need to fix things with you first. But I can't do that unless you tell me what's happening to you."

"I'm so scared," Brittany's muffled voice escaped the torso she was burying her face in. She clung so tightly to Santana's shirt that the Latina was pretty sure it would rip in a second. But that didn't matter. What mattered was making all of this pain go away.

"What are you scared of?"

"I don't want to be alone."

"You're not alone. I'm right here, Britt. I'm right here and I'm not gonna leave you. I will never leave you."

Santana sucked in a quick breath, realizing what she just said was the same exact phrase that made Brittany sink deeper into her nightmare back at the water tower. She prepared herself for the worst, but was surprisingly thankful when Brittany continued to yell at her.

"Yes you will!"

"No I won't."

"Yes you will! You'll leave me alone with _him!_"

The Latina wanted to interject and speak up, but it seemed that once Brittany finally started letting everything go, she was unable to stop the rest from coming out.

"I don't want to be with Artie! He wasn't a part of the plan! I don't want him in my future. I want you!

"But I know one day you're going to realize there is someone better out there for you and you're gonna leave. I'm so scared, Santana. I don't want you to go. If you go, who is going to let me copy off of their homework assignments? Who is going to sneak into my room in the middle of the night to protect me from the monsters? Who is going to believe in me when I don't believe in myself? I don't want you to leave me, but I know that you will. And I won't be able to survive without you.

"I know you've made promises before but promises are meant to be broken, Santana. You say you won't leave, but you will. We're already drifting apart, and soon we won't be friends anymore. I know it will happen! And when I think about it, I can't breathe. My heart hurts and my lungs feel like they're getting squeezed really tight. Like when my dad gets angry and he squishes his stress ball. It's like my lungs are telling me if I can't have you, I can't have air. When I think about it I want to die because dying would be easier than living without you. I can't live without you San. I can't. But I know one day I'll have to. I'm just _so_ afraid."

Brittany's cries picked up and the brunette felt her own heart shattering at the words she was listening to. In that moment she wanted to be the one who died. In that moment, when she heard Brittany's confession, Santana wanted to perform any and all death threats she placed upon other people on herself. But she knew no amount of physical pain she'd put herself through would make up for the emotional pain she had (and currently was) unintentionally put Brittany through.

Santana swallowed hard, fighting back her own sob, "Is that why… Was this the reason you freaked out at the water tower?" The brunette felt the faintest of nods as Brittany continued to confide in her.

"I didn't want to, I swear. But I couldn't help it. I was trying to have a good time, but this stupid… _voice_ in my head kept telling me that it wasn't going to last forever. Every few seconds it would say, 'You know she doesn't really love you right?' or, 'She's only doing this 'cause she feels sorry for you'. Or 'This is the last time you'll be together like this'.

"All day that stupid voice kept reminding me of what I'd be missing when you left, and I couldn't handle it. And at the water tower when you said you'd never leave me, I knew you were lying and I panicked. I panicked because I knew I couldn't control whether you stayed or not; just like I couldn't control whether or not I'd fall from the tower. I hate the idea of living a life without you, but I know one day I'll have to. Because, no matter what I do, everyone always leaves."

"How… how long have you felt like this?" Santana was almost too scared to ask, afraid of what the answer would be.

The dancer shrugged, "A while. I always tried to tell myself that I was wrong and that I was overreacting. But when you told me you were only making out with me because Puck was in the slammer, I knew I was right. You were only giving me sweet lady kisses because I was the only thing warm enough for you. Which I get, I do. I get that you don't want to _be_ with me. You've made that clear and I've accepted that. At first I was mad. But after you left, what I've realized was that I will gladly give up the possibility of us being a couple as long as it means you'll stay. If you stay, I promise I'll stop pretending that you're my girlfriend. If you stay I promise I'll do everything I can to stop loving you the way I do. If you stay I promise I won't embarrass you and make you feel ashamed to be around me. If you stay I-"

Brittany was suddenly interrupted when she felt salty lips crash against her own. Santana had pulled the blonde backward and leaned in to kiss her all in one motion. The tears that layered their mouths made the gesture taste sour, but both girls savored the sweetness for as long as they could.

Remembering she actually had something to say, Santana unhinged her lips from the dancer's so they were looking at each other. The two cheerleaders piled in a heap on the ground, one being cradled by the other, stared deeply into the emotional eyes opposite them.

"Brittany, listen to me. You have _nothing_ to be scared of because I will _never_ leave you."

"Yes you will!"

"Stop!" Santana stated firmly. "Listen, okay? You had your turn and now I get mine. So just listen for a sec." The Latina reached up so she was delicately holding on to Brittany's chin.

"I love you so. much. So _fucking_ much and I could _never_ see myself living without you. You are literally the only reason why I wake up in the morning. You are the reason why I face going to school every day because I know I get to see your face. You are the reason why I'm happy.

"I'm happy because when you smile it makes me feel like everything in the world is going to be okay. When you grab my hand, or put your head on my shoulder, or whisper in my ear, I literally have to use every ounce of my strength not to melt into a puddle of cliché, lovey-dovey shit. I'm only ever truly happy when I'm with you. When we're apart I just want to punch things and hurt people. But when you're with me, the only thing I want to do is love you and be there for you.

"Now I have to tell you something, something that I should have told you a long time ago. But you have to _promise_ you won't say anything until I'm done. Because if you make me stop I'm afraid I'll be too much of a pansy ass to start again. Do you promise?"

"Uh-huh," the Dutch girl nodded weakly.

Brittany turned her head back down so her temple was resting against the front of Santana's shoulder. The brunette re-positioned her left arm so that it could gently comb through blonde hair. She took a deep, shaky breath and spoke her mind.

"You remember when we first met? I was dressed from head to toe in aluminum foil pretending to be a knight and you thought I was a crazy person. I remember when you came over and looked at me with those gorgeous blue eyes of yours. I remember how you spoke to me with the most beautiful voice I have ever heard in my entire life. When I first saw you I remember thinking that from that moment on it was going to be my job to make sure you were always happy.

"At first I was a little angry that some strange girl was trying to play with me. But I'm so glad that you did, otherwise I never would have met you. If you had never wandered away from your mom and found me, I would have spent the rest of my life feeling empty. I would have continued feeling like there was something missing, preventing me from being happy. I always had this feeling that something wasn't right, but I didn't realize what was wrong until you came into the picture. You showed me what I was missing. You showed me that there was so much more to life than finding the world's largest cotton candy factory. You showed me what loved really is.

"When I met you I knew I had found something special. Even at the age of six, I knew you were different. You're the only person who truly gets me. You're the only person who is okay with the parts of me that even I'm not okay with. When I tell you secrets that make me hate myself, you don't run away. You don't get angry with me. You didn't go and tell people what a horrible person I am. You just say "Okay" and let me know that you'll always be there for me. You always know how to comfort me in ways I didn't know were possible. You can always make me feel a million times better just by walking in the room. You don't judge me, you don't make me feel bad about myself, and you don't treat me like everyone else does.

"You're such an amazing person, Brittany. And I am so honored that I've been able to get to know you over the last several years. I love everything that has happened between us. I love that we're married. I love that you'll randomly start massaging my shoulders in class and not worry about the other people asking if we're a couple, even though I sometimes make a big deal to tell them we're not. I love how you remember my birthday and never fail to get me something absolutely ridiculous you know I'll cherish. I love that you call me at one in the morning just to tell me about a joke you heard two days ago.

"Pretty much, I love _you._ I've said this before, and I'll say it again: I love everything about you. I love the way you answer Mr. Schue's pointless questions. I love how when you dance you are in your own little world and nothing can hurt you. I love the look in your eye that you get when you accomplish something you didn't think you could do. I love you in my life and I couldn't imagine a world where I wasn't with you.

"You don't know how much I depend on you. You're always the one who will listen to my rants without judgment, without aggravation, and without making me feel bad for waking you up in the middle of the night. When I'm having a bad day I always text you because I know you're going to say something ridiculous that will make me burst out laughing.

"I've never told you any of this before and that kills me. It kills me because it means I have failed. I have failed to tell you how much you mean to me and how much I love you. You should know this. You should know you're the kindest, funniest, smartest, most amazing person I have ever met. You always know what I'm thinking simply by glancing at me and you always make me laugh when I didn't realize I even knew how to smile. You make me feel things I don't know how to explain. You make me feel loved, understood and confident in myself. You make me want to reach out and kiss you all day and never stop. You make me feel like my life is worth living.

"You mean everything to me and I don't know what I would do without you. Growing up I always heard stories about soul mates and I never thought that they really existed. But when we got married, and we linked our pinkies together, I knew I had found mine. _You're_ my soul mate. I have found you, and my life is complete only when you're a part of it. I know we're technically married, but one day I want to make that official. I want to spend the rest of my life with my soul mate. With you. I want to spend the rest of eternity loving you with everything I have because you deserve to be loved. You deserve the world and I know that I can give that to you.

"I can give you things that no other person could ever give you. I will always be there for you when you needed me. I will kiss you and hold your hand in public if that's what you wanted. I will get over anything that is holding me back from being your girlfriend because I can't handle it anymore. I can't handle _not_ being your girlfriend. I want to be official. So fucking badly. I want there to be something between us like Artie said. I want to tell the world that you're mine and nobody else's.

"Especially Artie's. When I see you together I want to crawl in a hole and never come out. When you sit on his lap, or hold his hand, or give him a kiss, I just want to scream and punch him and make him feel what I feel when I see you guys together. Seeing you with Artie hurts more than anything because it tells me that you don't want to be with me.

"I know that I've had my share of 'boyfriends", but I've never liked any of them let alone love them. I love _you_ and I don't want to be with anyone else. I don't want any of those guys at school. I just want you. I want _you_, Brittany. I want you more than I want to be alive. Because if I didn't have you, I know there is no point in living.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to hold you every night before we go to bed. I want to feel the way your heartbeat lines up perfectly with mine. I want to cover you with sweet lady kisses all the time. Fuck, I want to make lady babies with you because you _know_ we'll have gorgeous lady babies. And we can name them whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want me to do. I'll love you until the day I die. I'll go to school tomorrow wearing a light up suit with a sign above my head saying 'I'm in love with my best friend'. I'll check under the bed fifty times if that's how many times you need in order to feel safe. I will do anything for you. Anything you want. Except leave. I will never, ever, EVER leave you. Even if we're not a couple, I will never leave your side. I can't, Brittany. If one day you decide to leave and be with somebody else then I won't hold it against you. Just know I will always be right behind waiting. I'll wait for as long as you need me to. But I will never stop loving you. I will never stop doing everything in my power to protect you. And I will never stop trying to get you to be my girlfriend. I am the guy for you, Brittany. Not Artie, or Finn, or Wes, or anybody else. Just me."

Santana ultimately had to stop talking so she could take a deeper and shakier breath than before. The whole time she was speaking, she kept her gaze fixated on the wall in front of her; almost as if her script was written in the floral design. She was too nervous to look down, afraid of the expression she might see. But if she did, she wouldn't have been disappointed.

Brittany had silent tears streaming down her face as she listened to the brunette's speech. Unlike Santana, the dancer was unable to take her gaze _off_ the speaking girl. Just when she thought Santana couldn't say anything that could make Brittany's heart burst with more love than it already has, she goes and does something like this.

While a tender silence blanketed the cheerleaders, Brittany also became very aware of the silence in her head.

The voice that had constantly plagued her, constantly told her she wasn't worth it, constantly tried to convince her that Santana didn't really love her… was silent. It hadn't said a single word while the Latina was talking, and Brittany knew it was defeated. It lost and Brittany won. She had finally won. She won over her own mind and knew she was right all along. She knew Santana was never going to leave her, and she knew they would spend the rest of their lives together.

Realizing this was like lifting the weight of the world off her chest. The blonde found she was able to breathe again. Brittany was free. She was finally free from the prison she had been kept in since before the duets competition. She was free and it was all thanks to Santana (who, ironically, was the one to imprison her in the first place).

"San?" Brittany whispered.

"Yeah?" Santana finally altered her gaze so she was now looking down at the girl still situated in her arms.

"Are you finished?"

"Uh-huh. Yeah, I think so."

Brittany carefully pushed herself off of Santana's lap so she was level with the still shaking girl. Santana noticed the blonde was unable to hide the longing from her eyes as she stared at the Latina's lips. The next thing Santana knew, Brittany had closed the gap between their mouths. This time the kiss wasn't as desperate as the first one was earlier. This time Brittany poured her heart and soul into the brunette's lips and Santana did the same. They were speaking to each other in that moment, with their lips locked together. In that one kiss, they were telling each other what words couldn't say. And in that moment, they knew. They knew everything was going to be okay.

Ultimately it was Brittany to pull away first, and when she did she smiled shyly at the smaller girl before her. "You know… I only dated Artie to make you jealous."

"Yeah? Well it fucking worked!" Santana playfully shoved the blonde's shoulder.

"I thought that maybe you'd get jealous enough to fight for me. I just wanted to wake you up."

"Oh I'm awake alright!" The brunette looked down and twiddled the hem of her sock between her fingers and made a point in studying the stitching pattern. "How come you didn't just say something?"

"I was afraid you'd freak out and run away or something."

"I wouldn't run away. Not from you."

It was now Brittany's turn to become fascinated with an article of clothing, opting for the base of her shirt. "You did when I asked you to sing 'Come to My Window' with me."

"I was scared, B."

"Are you scared now?"

"I'm terrified. I'm terrified of what loving you does to me. I'm terrified I won't be able to control myself when I'm around you. I'm terrified I'll love you so much I'll end up breaking you. And I'm terrified of what people will say behind our backs when they find out about us."

Keeping her head angled towards the ground, Brittany raised her blue eyes coyly, "What is there to find out about?"

At the question, Santana immediately felt her cheeks flush and her ears become hot. The way the dancer was looking at her – with a hint of seduction in her eyes – was making the smaller girl's stomach flutter and her heart speed up obnoxiously. She quickly averted her gaze back to the floor as she stumbled over her next words, "I don't know… I just thought… well after everything that just happened…I was thinking… maybe… you and I could…you know… be… together…?"

"Are you asking me if I want to be your girlfriend?" Brittany finally lifted her head to reveal a mischievous smile. There was no way she was going to let Santana off that easily. If the Latina wanted to be a couple she had to say it flat out.

"Well… I mean… only if you want to."

The Dutch girl shrugged her shoulders and went back to playing with her shirt. Santana wasn't quite there yet. "I don't know, San. It doesn't really sound like you're excited about it. How do I know you're not just saying that so I feel better?"

"WHAT? ! No! Brittany, I want to! I want to so fucking badly you have no idea! I want to be your girlfriend more than anything! I told you that. And I asked you to be mine! Twice!"

"Well," the dancer had moved to drawing circles across her carpet in an attempt to annoy the flustered girl, "not really. At least not in a way that I understand."

Santana instantly shot her hands out so she was desperately clutching onto Brittany's. Her brown eyes bore deeply into blue and a nervous smile played with the corners of her mouth. "Brittany Susan Pierce, will you do me the _honors_ of being my girlfriend? Will you make me the happiest person alive by saying yes and loving me as much as I love you?"

The blonde took a deep breath through her nose so that when she exhaled, her shoulders dropped with the motion. She chewed at her bottom lip and scrunched her face in concentration. "Ummm… I don't know. I'll have to think about it. This is all so sudden."

Without any prior warning, the smaller girl launched herself at Brittany and tackled her to the floor. Before anyone knew what was happening, Brittany was squealing in a rather high pitch while Santana tickled her struggling body. The Latina couldn't help mentally shake her head at the irony of it all. Wasn't this the _exact_ way things ended with them at the water tower? Was she sensing a pattern? If so… she was excited to see what would come next. Last time, their day ended with a sweet, soft kiss and she was praying she'd get another one.

"St-stop!" Brittany choked out between gut wrenching laughter.

"Then answer the question! I won't stop unless you answer the question!"

"Okay, okay, okay, okay, OKAY!" the trapped girl declared as she raised her arms up in defense. "YES! I'll be your girlfriend!"

"Are you sure you want to?"

"I'm sure! I'm sure!"

"Good," Santana nodded as she stopped her motion. She had one hand on either side of the blonde's head, holding herself up. Noticing the hunger in Brittany's eyes, Santana beamed down at her best friend.

Strike that. Her _girlfriend._

Oh how she loved to finally be able to say that word. _Girlfriend. _It certainly had a nice ring to it.

The new couple continued to stare at each other, taking the other in, when Brittany couldn't contain herself any longer. She lifted her head and grabbed onto the Latina's lips with her own. Santana gladly surrendered her tongue to the feisty dancer before carefully lowering herself onto the taller girl's body.

The kiss was deep. It was passionate. It was filled with years of pent up sexual tension for each other. And it certainly left them out of breath. But still. The emotion behind the kiss was real and it was sincere. In that moment, with her body pressed against the pale one beneath her, Santana couldn't think of a single thing she'd rather be doing.

Guess Santana's pattern theory was only mostly right.

* * *

**And... scene. That wasn't so bad was it? I hope not. Next chapter shouldn't be a novel in and of itself.**

**I have a question for all of you. I was thinking about this the other day and I realized I didn't have an answer. Are you ready?**

**If you could take the place of one character who would it be: Brittany or Santana? So like, would you rather be sweet and innocent like Brittany and have a friend like Santana? Or would you rather be tough and (somewhat) manipulative like Santana and have a friend like Brittany?**


	8. Brainstorming Session of Champions

**Alright here's the next chapter. I'm sooooo sorry it took forever for me to post! But can you blame me after those AMAZING Glee episodes we've gotten? I mean seriously. First Hurt Locker, then Dirt Locker, then Frozen Desert Locker, then Shirt Locker and now Revert Locker! What are we going to get next? Plus I just got myself a tumblr and I'm so obsessed with that site it's not even funny.**

**Anyway, I tried to make this chapter much shorter and funnier than the last chapter to give you all a break. Funnier? I hope so. Shorter? Barely. Well written? Nope.**

**By the way. Based on Artie's conversation with Brittany by the lockers, I'm convinced RIB read my story. No big deal.**

**One more thing. I meant to say this a few chapters back but I kept forgetting. Be aware of language. Especially in this chapter. I like to swear... a lot. But I don't want to change the rating because language is going to be the only mature matter I'll be able to write. So just know I'll be dropping the F-bomb a few more times than necessary.**

* * *

Santana was tangled up in a plethora of sheets. They twisted around her torso and wove between her legs, leaving one exposed to the coldness of the room while the other was in the process of overheating. The rough carpet irritated her naked body and made the Latina's skin itch like crazy. Dead weight was placed heavily upon her chest and a strand of blonde hair wandered sloppily into her mouth. The small girl slowly reached up to brush the mess of hair away from her face, careful not to disturb the sleeping cheerleader lying on top of her. After she removed the disturbance from her mouth, the brunette took the time to forcefully shove away the edge of a chair that was digging into her side.

All in all, Santana was comfortable. She was without a doubt, no room for discussion, completely and one hundred percent comfortable. She actually couldn't think of a time where she had been _more_ comfortable. Even with taking into consideration the fact that her body was contorted rather awkwardly underneath a desk, there was no possible way Santana could be anything _but_ comfortable. She was sprawled out on the Dutch girl's floor with Brittany's head resting peacefully over her heart. The lengths of their torsos were in complete contact with one another and their legs were just as tangled as the sheets. Santana grinned as she watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest make Brittany's head bob up and down. She could only imagine that the blonde was dreaming about jumping on a gigantic trampoline. Either that or she was finally able to continue her dance battle with an otter.

But she knew; Santana knew that even while unconscious Brittany was making sure their heartbeats matched – which of course they did. As the cheerleaders laid there, cocooned in a mess of sheets, breathing together, the brunette knew that as long as she had her dancer everything was going to be okay. As long as their heartbeats matched nothing could ever tear them apart. Santana knew that as long as the delicate, pale arm that was draped across her bare stomach –making her skin feel electrified – stayed there, she would gladly allow the irritable rug to continue to piss her off. And even though it felt like Brittany retained the weight of a skyscraper when she was asleep, Santana wouldn't have it any other way.

The smaller girl wanted to stay where she was for forever. She wanted to let the dancer and the carpet and the sheets encompass her body until there was nothing left of the real world, leaving her warm and safe. She wanted to feel how her breath was in perfect harmony with Brittany's. She wanted to lie right there on the ground holding her best friend for the rest of her life.

_IDIOT! _Santana immediately whacked the floor with the back of her head in frustration. She had to stop saying that. Brittany wasn't her best friend anymore.

She was her _girlfriend._

_My girlfriend, my girlfriend, Brittany is my girlfriend!_ The smaller girl sang to herself while doing a little shoulder dance.

Simply saying that word in her head made the brunette feel all tingly.

To say Santana was ecstatic about being Brittany's girlfriend would the understatement of the century (more so than the previous understatements of the century). The Latina had been waiting for this moment since she was six years old. She had been waiting patiently ever since she first locked pinkies with the most amazing person in the universe. Every day Santana would imagine what it would be like when she finally got together with the girl of her dreams. Every day she would rehearse what she would say to win over Brittany's heart. And every day she would go home feeling miserable with herself for not expressing how she truly felt.

But not today. Today she finally gets to stop imagining, finally stop rehearsing. Today she finally gets to walk home with a bounce in her step. Today she finally gets to tell the world that Brittany Susan Pierce was hers.

Just thinking about that made Santana's heart skip a beat and she couldn't contain the triumphant smile that spread across her face. Brittany was finally hers. Not Artie's. _Hers._ The brunette never thought this moment would ever actually come. And now that it had, she wasn't sure of what to do with herself. She didn't know if she should jump up and down for joy, or squeal like a stupid little girl at a Justin Bieber concert or rub it in that douche bag who is too lazy to walk's face. If she could have her way she would be able to do all of that, especially the latter. But for right now she was perfectly content lying on the floor with her girlfriend sound asleep in her arms.

At least she was… until she heard the relentless banging coming from downstairs.

Santana did her best to ignore the noise by burying her face into a mess of blonde hair and wrapping herself tighter around the dancer's body. But when the light knocking turned into incessant pounding, the Latina had reached her breaking point. She was going to kill whoever had the balls to disturb her at a time like this.

After placing one last, tender kiss to the top of Brittany's head, Santana carefully slid herself out from underneath the taller girl. Once she was standing, an impressed breath escaped her nose and her eyebrows rose in the same manner. Looking around, Santana had half a mind to give herself a firm pat on the back. Brittany's usually spotless, organized room was in complete disarray. Everything that was usually on the dresser was now scattered across the floor, not a single sheet or pillow was actually on the bed, multiple chairs were knocked over, and clothes were thrown about every which way. It was practically a Where's Waldo game for Santana to simply find her bra (somehow it had found a home inside Ken and Barbie's kitchen).

_I done good, _the Latina thought to herself as she pulled a tank top over her head, smirking the entire time. Upon viewing the disheveled room, there was absolutely no denying the fact that they needed to have awesome confessional sex more often – well… minus a hysterical Brittany and petrified Santana.

While she continued to come up with different scenarios for each confessional she was planning on having, the brunette almost forgot about the disturbance downstairs as she put the rest of her clothes on. She was only brought back to reality – and out of her fantasy of what she was going to do to Brittany after senario number four – when the doorbell suddenly joined in with the knocking.

"Jesus Christ! Calm the fuck down, I'm coming!" Santana spat as she bolted down the stairs. She was afraid the noise would wake her sleeping beauty and Brittany deserved to have as much rest as possible; especially after what happened only a few hours ago.

When she reached the door, the small girl grasped onto the handle and whipped it open so fast it was nearly yanked off its hinges. There was already a scowl plastered to her face and Santana was pretty positive she may have growled as well. She was about to give the person on the other side a piece of her mind (and if she was lucky, they would leave crying), but stopped before the sound reached her lips.

Standing outside on Brittany's porch were all of the Glee members plus Kurt, minus Artie. Most of the boys were hunched over awkwardly kicking at the stoop with their hands in their pockets, unsure of what to do at the moment. A few of the girls, upon seeing Santana answer the door rather angrily, occupied themselves by inspecting their nails rather thoroughly. The rest of the group was either bouncing on their toes and looking at the roof above them, or they were rocking back and forth on their heels and brandishing a very hesitant smile. The only people who were legitimately grinning from ear to ear were Rachel and Mercedes. And based on the way she was standing, the Latina figured Mercedes was the one who felt the need to pound on the door at an obnoxious tempo.

Santana's shoulders relaxed and she suddenly found herself involuntarily thinking that if it had been anyone else knocking on the door she would have wasted no time in destroying them. But for some bizarre reason, the fact that it was Mercedes who had jerked her out of the peaceful state she was in upstairs didn't really bother the brunette. In a way she was actually… _happy_ to see the diva standing on in front of her.

And, okay, maybe she was a _little_ glad to see the other Glee members there as well. But she would never admit that to anyone. She barely wanted to admit it to herself. However, whether she wanted to admit it or not, seeing her teammates all huddled together on Brittany's porch only fueled her emotions of feeling like she was a part of something special.

Fuck man-hands for infecting her mind with such a poisonous virus.

Shaking her head to clear it of any more warm and fuzzy thoughts, Santana quickly covered up any surprise with her signature death glare so that she was practically shooting daggers at the group.

"WHAT? !" she snapped.

Rachel, who was standing slightly behind Mercedes, took a step forward; her smile somehow getting bigger. "Hello, Santana. We were actually expecting Brittany to answer the door but you will do." She stopped to clear her throat, "On behalf of myself and the entire Glee Club I would like to inquire as to how you and Brittany are feeling this afternoon."

"Afternoon…?" the Latina furrowed her eyebrows confused. _Shit. Was it that late already?_ If she had one more unexcused absence from school her mother was going to _kill_ her.

"Yes," Rachel continued, "it is currently twelve-twenty-three in the afternoon on this beautiful Wednesday. Due to the fact that you and Brittany failed to show up to school this morning, we were all very concerned about your wellbeing; especially Brittany's. And I, as well as the rest of our fellow Glee members here, wanted to come over and make sure that everything was okay."

Santana was surprised to see every single person standing outside nodding their heads in confirmation. She had expected at least one of them to pipe up saying that the dwarf had forced them all to come with her. But that didn't happen. They all remained quiet and allowed Rachel to keep speaking for them, informing Santana of their worry for her and the blonde.

"After Artie's selfish and rather peremptory outburst yesterday, you and Brittany immediately fled the school and no one heard from you since. It was cause for great deal of concern amongst the group. Which is why we are all here making sure that you are both still alive and well," the attention obsessed girl finished.

Santana wanted to scoff at Rachel and her speech, but based on the way every single person was smiling sympathetically, the cheerleader found it physically impossible to suppress her warm and fuzzy thoughts. She couldn't believe how much they cared. They cared enough to seek out Brittany's house in the middle of a school day in order to make sure that they were both okay.

The brunette felt her lips compress into a grateful smile as she too nodded her head. "Yeah we're fine. Thanks for checking up on us. That's really nice of you guys."

"Yeah, yeah we're Saints. Whatever," Mercedes waved her hand. "So where's Brittany?"

"She's in her room sleeping."

"That's cool, we'll wait," the diva announced as she brushed past Santana and entered the Dutch girl's house.

Rachel was close on Mercedes' heels as she too marched through the door, but the other members remained glued to the porch. Santana rolled her eyes and chuckled at how ridiculous they were acting before stepping aside to raise a welcoming arm. "You guys can come in too if you want."

Very slowly Puck, Finn, Sam, Lauren, Quinn, Tina, Mike and Kurt all shuffled passed the entry way, making sure to keep their heads lowered as they walked by Santana. The group eventually settled down in the living room; some situating themselves on various pieces of furniture while others opted for the floor. Unfortunately Puck ended up picking the wrong seat and it warranted an impressive punch to his shoulder from the small brunette. Once Puck had finally surrendered the big, comfy chair to her, Santana plopped down sideways on the cushion so her feet were hanging off the edge of an armrest.

The cheerleader looked around the room and instantly felt a plethora of warm fuzzies popping out all across her skin as she watched her friends – yes she'll admit they were her friends, she just won't admit that she likes any of them – converse amongst themselves. She was content with just sitting there in silence while the rest of the Glee Club did all the talking, but when the volume got above a certain level, the Latina spoke up sharply.

"Guys," Santana hissed. "Keep it down. B had a really rough night and I don't want her to wake up before she has to."

"Is everything okay?" Quinn asked, concern evident in her eyes.

"Yeah she's fine. She's just going through some stuff right now."

"What kind of stuff?" Finn prodded.

The brunette shrugged, "Just stuff."

"Have you been with her the entire time since the _incident_ yesterday?" Rachel further interrogated the Latina.

"No. I brought her here and she begged me to let her have some time alone so I left. But when I came back at three this morning and she was having a nightmare. This was the first time I've left her since then."

"A nightmare about what?" Puck furrowed his eyebrows.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

Tina, the usually quiet girl who never spoke up if she didn't have to, started hounding the cheerleader, "Santana, you can't just tell us that Brittany is going through something that is giving her nightmares and then tell us not to worry about it. We want to know what's going on so we can help. She's our friend too ya know."

"Look," the Latina sighed while pinching the bridge of her nose, 'I appreciate your guy's concern. Really, I do. But it's kinda private and since I'm ridiculously tired and can't seem to think straight, I've already said too much. If Brittany wants to tell you what's going on then she will. On her own time. But I'm not gonna say anything else. So can we please just drop it?"

It was clear, based on the way their mouths were open that the group was not going to just drop it. But any sounds of protest died in their throats when they heard a soft padding coming down the stairs. Everyone looked up to see a very sleepy Brittany rubbing her eyes as she sluggishly made her way to the living room. Seeing her face, seeing how exhausted she looked; how her blue eyes were still slightly red and puffy, made the Glee kids instantly close their mouths. None of them had ever seen this Brittany before and they didn't really know how to handle the situation. They had no idea what to say to someone who looked like they were carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Thankfully, they were saved from remaining frozen with their mouths hanging open like idiots when Santana spoke up quietly. "Hey, B. How you feeling chica?"

The blonde dragged herself over until she was sitting on the edge of the chair and bent down on top of the smaller girl, burying her face in the crook of Santana's neck. "Better," her muffled voice escaped into the quiet room.

Brittany was feeling better, yes. That she couldn't lie about. But the truth was; she was far from perfect. Yes, she was overjoyed that she and Santana were officially a couple, and yes she was thankful the voice in her head had finally shut up about the Latina. It had _finally_ stopped lying about the future. It had _finally_ stopped telling her that the brunette would one day leave and never come back. It had stopped doing all of that but, unfortunately, it had moved on to greener pastures. While Brittany was alone upstairs the voice had returned just as loud as before so it could now torment her about Artie. She was already terrified of him and what he was going to do now that he was so mad. And her little "friend" wasn't making things any easier. It was using up all of Brittany's remaining energy to suppress this voice enough for her to enjoy being with Santana. The whole process was completely draining.

It also didn't help that she only got about an hour of sleep due to her nightmare, the long talk, the new discussion in her head about Artie and all the X rated things she did last night. All of that piled on top of one another was making it impossible for Brittany to keep the voice quieted to a level where she could at least hear herself think.

The dancer was surprised to discover that the voice was practically silenced when she suddenly felt soft hands running through her hair and down her back, accompanied by an equally gentle voice.

"Everyone in Glee Club is here. They wanted to make sure you were okay," Santana whispered.

Brittany turned her head so she was able to look at the rest of the group she realized she'd missed on her way to the living room. "Hey guys," she breathed out, her voice sounding just as exhausted as she looked.

Everyone either raised a hand or nodded a hello to the Dutch girl.

"Did you see who else came especially for you?" the Latina continued.

Brittany squinted as she scanned the faces before her. When she landed on one in particular, her blue eyes lit up and she immediately pushed herself off the smaller girl, all exhaustion dismissed. "KURT!" she squealed as she hopped over the coffee table to embrace the boy sitting on the couch.

"Hey baby cakes," Kurt beamed, squeezing the dancer affectionately in his arms. "How ya doing lovey?"

"Good. I've missed you."

"Missed you more."

"Nuh-uh," the blonde shook her head vigorously against Kurt's neck, "I missed you so much I thought I was never gonna smile again."

"I've missed _you_ so much I thought I was going to die."

"Liar."

"Girl, I cried every single night we were apart. I even wrote a depressing poem for each day I didn't get to see your shining face. I read them all dramatically in front of the bathroom mirror. Ask my dad, he heard me wailing. I totally win."

"Guess what!" Brittany leaned back so she was looking directly in her friend's eyes, obviously forgetting about the battle of who missed who more.

"What?"

"Santana got me a purple heffalump AND she taught me what the word _audacity_ means!"

The rest of the group looking at each other with expressions of revelations on their faces went unnoticed to the dancer as she continued to inform Kurt all about Otis Spunkmeyer.

"That was really nice of her," Kurt laughed. "You've got yourself a great friend over there. Don't ya?"

Brittany turned around to beam at the Latina who was watching her. "Yup! She's the best!" At that the cheerleader dislodged herself from Kurt and made her way back to the slightly blushing Latina in the chair.

Santana had readjusted herself forward in her seat so that Brittany was able to wedge herself between the brunette and one arm rest while her legs sprawled across the smaller girl's lap and hung over the side of the other. Santana immediately used her left hand to trail fingers up and down Brittany's toned legs, and the dancer twisted brown hair through her own. Mercedes was pretty sure neither one of them even knew what was going on or what their hands were doing. For the umpteenth time that week they were lost in their own little world; a world in which no one else had access to.

The way they were snuggled up against one another was so gosh darn precious, Mercedes was positive she was going to start weeping if she continued watching the small, yet intimate, exchange between the cheerleaders. She needed to put an end to this madness before her emotions got the best of her.

"Alright," the diva stated while clapping her hands together affirmatively. "Now that Brittany is here we can begin."

"Begin what?" Santana questioned hesitantly furrowing her eyebrows; though the steady patterns she didn't realize she had started drawing across Brittany's shoulder blades with her other hand never faltered.

Much to nobody's surprise Rachel immediately spoke up, "Well Santana, you may recall my suggestion to Mr. Schuester yesterday about all of us having a brainstorm session in order to compose a list made entirely up of different ways in which we can eliminate Artie from the face of the Earth. Do you remember such a notion?"

"Vaguely."

"This was right after Artie made that extremely offensive remark to our dear Brittany. You were too busy consoling her that you must have missed my proposition. Don't worry though, no hard feelings. I sympathize with you entirely and fully understand your need to ignore me yet again."

"Berry, I swear to God if you don't get to the point soon you're gonna wish you did," the Latina snapped.

"In any event," Rachel continued, unfazed by Santana's dwindling patience, "I figured today would be the perfect day to have this brainstorming session when I discovered that Artie never attended homeroom, nor did he make it to any of his other morning classes. It was clear he wasn't going to be in school so there was no way he could interfere with our plans. So the meeting was to be held during regular mid-day Glee rehearsal. However, when said rehearsal started and neither you nor Brittany showed up, all of us quickly realized two things: One, the wellbeing of you and Brittany was obviously worse than we originally thought, and two, it would be immoral for us to have this discussion without both of you present. So, after calling Kurt and informing him of the situation, we exited McKinley High and made our way over here. And because we lucked out by having the two of you in the same location, we can now begin our discussion without having to treck all the way to your house."

Once the long-winded girl finished speaking, Santana stared at the rest of the group for a couple of seconds before asking, "Can one of you give please me the sparknotes version?"

"Basically we wanted to make sure you guys were okay and then we wanted to figure out ways we can all kill Artie," Puck immediately jumped in.

"Ah," the brunette nodded with a smile.

As much as she hated the thought of what she was about to do, Santana found herself permanently removing every single person that was in Brittany's living room from her hit list – yes, even Rachel Man-Hands Berry. She couldn't express feelings (not that she had any in the first place) worthy enough to show how grateful she was that they cared so much about the Dutch girl that they were willing to cut school just so they could come up with ways to hurt the person who made her cry. Santana had a hard time believing the people who had just made a conscious effort in making sure she and Brittany were okay were the same group of high school students who had so willingly bashed her a couple of days ago. The brunette was finding it very difficult to wrap her mind around their sudden change of heart.

Though she wasn't complaining. Oh no. There was absolutely no complaining happening in Santana's head. In fact, what was going through her mind was quite the opposite. She couldn't stop thanking them over and over again. So much so that she nearly missed the quiet voice escape the blonde who had otherwise been silent the moment she curled up on the chair.

"Why are you guys are doing this?"

Brittany's voice was so soft, so fragile and so uncertain it nearly made everyone in the room fall over in a fit of heartache. It pained them to think that the cheerleader didn't understand why they were all congregated in her house because it meant they hadn't done their job in showing her how much she meant to all of them. If you were to ask any of the Glee members who their favorite teammate was, every single one would say Brittany. Whether it was because she always gave them a compliment, or because she always had such a positive attitude, or because she could always make anyone laugh without even trying, the answer was always the same. Brittany was their favorite. And it was because of that fact they all felt this overwhelming need to make sure the blonde was supported from every angle.

"Because sweetie," Kurt explained gently, "we all love you too much to just let what Artie said go. If he thinks that it's okay to say something like that to you, then we think that it's okay to kill him."

Brittany nodded as she processed what her other ex-boyfriend had said. "Oh… that makes sense. Cool."

"Okay," Mercedes intervened yet again. "Who shall be the first person to begin the list on possible ways in killing Artie?"

Sam immediately raised his hand. "Well, I was thinking that we could, like, superglue his hands to the wheels of his wheelchair or something. And then we can push him down a really steep hill."

"And what would that do exactly?" Lauren asked.

"Obviously his arms would be ripped clean off his body and as he's rolling over them he'll bleed to death."

"We could always set him on fire," Quinn offered.

Tina shook her head unimpressed, "No. It's not original enough. We need something more… OH! How about stabbing him in the neck with a pencil? That'll hurt."

"Not as much as much as sawing his balls off with a kite string," Puck informed. "Not only would it be painful as fuck, it would take away what little manliness he does have."

Mercedes slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand, "Guys come on. These are all really good ideas for torturing him but they're not actually going to end his life. We need him to _die_, remember?"

"Then why don't we just dress him up in last month's fashion and call it a day?" When Kurt only received looks of bewilderment he shrugged his shoulders defensively, "What? I know if I was wearing outdated clothing I'd kill myself in a heartbeat."

"How about we feed him to a bear?" Mike suggested.

"Sure. If you know where we can find a bear willing to eat a crippled douche-bag," Puck retorted jabbing the Asian in the shoulder.

"I thought we said there'd be no wrong answers."

"That was before you suggested feeding him to a bear."

"You think we can cut his balls off with kite string!"

Finn, completely removed from the debate going on between Puck and Mike, suddenly looked like he solved the world's hardest puzzle and he stood up to share his epiphany. "What do you guys think of this? We bury him alive, right? But we make sure to put holes in his coffin so that when it rains he'll totally drown."

"Yeah, cause last time I checked that's how logic works. Good thinkin', Frankenteen," Lauren rolled her eyes. "You all are over thinking this _way_ too much. I say we just take him out in broad daylight, shoot him in the back of the head and deal with the consequences."

It was now Mercedes' turn to shake her head disapprovingly. "Nah girl. I mean, I like your idea and all but we gotta make him suffer. The best way to do that would be to saw his body in half with the edge of a coin. And it's not like he can just get up and walk away. It's the perfect plan! Painful and deadly"

"No, no, no, no, no," Rachel held up her hands in protest. "Do you guys really want to deal with him screaming through that? I personally can't stand his _singing_ voice. It resonates at the same pitch of a wounded cow. Just imagine what he'll sound like as he's pleading for his life. No, I propose that after we rip out his vocal chords we snap his head off with a pair of very dull shears."

All eyes were on the Barbra wannabe as she gave a complete visual play-by-play of how they would go about cutting Artie's head off. There wasn't a single person whose mouth was shut while Rachel continued to take her anger out on one of the throw pillows she had been resting against. Everyone wanted to say something to the girl but it was Quinn who found her voice first.

"Wow Rachel. Impressive display of aggression. Who knew you had it in you to be… not a complete annoying little shit? Good work."

"Awww, thank you!" Rachel beamed at the ex-cheerleader.

The rest of the group managed to remember how to function long enough to also compliment Rachel's surprising little outburst, but they were quickly brought back to the task at hand when Mercedes spoke up once again.

"Okay y'all. We've come up with really good, mostly plausible, ideas. But unfortunately physics only allows us to kill him once. So we have to figure out who had the best idea. What do you guys think?"

The diva, along with the other Glee members, turned her attention to the cheerleaders sitting together on the chair. The two girls had yet to say a word the entire time everyone was brainstorming and once they were in the spotlight it was clear they didn't even realize anyone else had been talking.

Brittany and Santana had completely tuned out the conversation going on around them and were busy having one of their own. Though, based on the way they were huffin' and puffin', it was evident theirs was much more heated. The dancer currently possessed some of the most irresistible puppy-dog eyes in the history of the universe and it was obvious Santana was trying very hard to ignore them. The Latina kept shaking her head stubbornly, her own eyes getting bigger the harder she clenched her teeth. But no matter how angry Santana appeared to be getting, Brittany refused to give up.

"Pleeeeaasssee?" the Dutch girl whined.

"No." Santana hissed.

"Yes."

"Brittany, no."

"Come on, San!"

"What did I just say?"

"I'll never ask for anything ever again!"

"Yes you will."

"No I won't, I promise. Pleeeaaassseeee? ! Pretty please with rainbow sprinkles and a big kiss on top!"

"Okay, fine!" Defeated, Santana closed her eyes and leaned her head against the back of the chair. After a few seconds she reluctantly looked up at the rest of the group and made a failing effort to ignore a beaming Brittany. When she spoke, her voice was low and had a hint of extreme embarrassment to it, "Um… guys…? Mercedes has something she needs to tell you."

The diva furrowed her eyebrows and gave Santana a quizzical look, not understanding what was going on. "Huh? What do I have to tell them?"

As she looked at the cheerleaders for clarification, the situation slowly began to process in her mind. She suddenly noticed their swollen lips, how they were both absentmindedly caressing one another in the most delicate ways possible, the extreme proximity of their bodies and the way Santana rested a protective arm across Brittany's waist and hadn't removed it the entire time they were sitting together. Mercedes instantly felt her eyes bulge out of their sockets and her mouth pop open in an overjoyed smile.

"Really? !" she gasped, allowing her smile to get bigger when Brittany and Santana nodded in confirmation. "Are you for real? !"

"That's typically what _really_ means," the smaller girl informed.

"You're for real right now? ! And you're letting _me_ tell them!"

"You _are_ the one who dibbsed it."

"AAAAHHHHH!" Mercedes squealed, reaching a pitch no one thought was at all possible. "Oh my God, oh my God, OH MY GOD! Fucking _FINALLY_! This is just… I can't even… ARE YOU FOR REAL RIGHT NOW? ! Like, you're not lying to me?"

"No," Brittany laughed. "We're not lying."

"SON OF A MONKEY'S BRAIN! ARE YOU FOR _REAL_? ! YOU ARE! YOU'RE FOR REAL! YOU'RE - I'M SO FRIGGIN' EXCITED!"

"I understand you three clearly have some sort of hidden language, but would you mind telling the rest of us what it is that's going on here?" Kurt interrupted the exchange between the squealing girl on the couch next to him and the blushing girls on the chair across from him.

"Oh my God you guys!" Mercedes took a deep breath to try and calm her rapidly beating heart. "You guys, this is no joke! And when I say no joke, I mean I'm not actually kidding! Guys, oh my God! Stop talking and listen up! Brittany and Santana are officially a COUPLE!"

At that she practically threw herself off the couch and a mile into the air in an overly dramatic display of happiness. She didn't stop her squealing as she jumped up and down and even did a little dance when she landed. But her celebration soon diminished when she noticed no one else had joined her. The rest of the Glee members were just sitting there staring at the excited girl in shock.

The diva's passionate motions stopped and she looked around quizzically at the people sitting there gaping at her. She had expected everyone to immediately jump in with their own form of congratulations but they only looked lost. Mercedes thought she might not have made herself clear enough.

"Yo! Did you hear what I just said? ! Brittany and Santana are finally dating! They are girlfriend and girlfriend!"

Still, even after her clarification, the diva continued to only receive blank stares from her friends. Not a single person was making any effort to be excited along with her and her disappointment quickly took over. Mercedes plopped back down on the couch and let out a huff.

"Why aren't you guys all excited? Do you not care about the happiness of these two lovers?"

Kurt didn't hesitate to put a comforting hand on the upset girl's shoulder as he broke the news to her, "We _are_ excited 'Cedes. We couldn't be happier for them. It's just, we're all a little confused that's all."

"What are you confused about? I made it perfectly clear that they're finally dating."

"We understood what you said, but we all thought they've been dating since we've met them," Quinn pointed out.

"You see Mercedes," Rachel butted in, "throughout the entire duration of the past few school years we've all taken note on the way Brittany and Santana act around each other. It was obvious based on the gentle caresses, the constant hand holding and the whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears during Glee rehearsal that there was something going on between them that was much deeper than a simple friendship. It didn't take long for us to figure out that they were _secretly_ dating. And I say secretly very loosely because they were not too efficient in hiding the matter. Though, apparently they were secret enough if you weren't able to figure them out."

"Seriously. Do you not remember the conference call you were a part of last year during Quinn's baby drama? Brittany literally told us she was having sex with Santana. How did you not realize they were dating back then?" Tina asked.

"Because they weren't! They have not been dating at all since then, because Santana was too much of a wimp to admit she loved another girl and Brittany was dating Artie."

Puck suddenly spoke up; his voice sounding like what he had to say was the most obvious thing in the world. "Have you ever heard of a beard? Artie was Brittany's and I was clearly Santana's."

Rachel continued on with her speech as if she was never interrupted. "Mercedes, we have all known for quite some time that Brittany and Santana are madly in love. And we couldn't be more ecstatic that they've found a soul mate in one another. You informing us that they're dating does not come as a shock. Frankly, we're more surprised that they've finally decided to come out about it. We've all been making bets to see how long it would take them to tell us."

"I just won," Mike raised his hand triumphantly.

"Wow Mercedes," Lauren shook her head. "I always thought you were the smart one. But even I knew they were dating and I've only been a part of this group for a couple months. You disappoint me."

"No, you guys I promise you they have not been dating. I swear!" the diva attempted to reason. Though it was clear that no matter how many times she tried to assure the other members Brittany and Santana had only just started going out, no one seemed to believe her.

The Glee kids' discussion with Mercedes quickly progressed into a full on debate about how long the cheerleaders had been together as a couple. It seemed as if their argument had reached a crescendo when suddenly a forgotten voice rang above the rest.

"Hey!" Santana snapped. "Think you could _not_ talk about me and Brittany like we're not actually in the same room as you? Thanks." The Latina turned her attention back to the chopsticks game she was currently beating Brittany at. Keeping her eyes locked on pale fingers in front of her, the brunette announced, "Mercedes is right by the way. We only became official last night."

"HA!" the ex-cheerleader stood up and pointed at the rest of the group. "I told you!"

"Wait. Now I'm really confused," Finn proclaimed. "So you guys _haven't_ been dating this entire time?"

"Nope," the dancer confirmed.

"That did absolutely nothing to help my confusion."

"Does this mean I don't get my fifty bucks?" Mike asked seriously.

"So who asked who? Tell me _everything_!" Tina ignored the question and leaned forward in her seat so her elbows rested on her knees. All the other girls (including Kurt) in the room followed suit while the boys simply rolled their eyes or gagged.

As the cheerleaders wordlessly switched from their chopsticks game to "Rock, Paper, Scissors", Brittany smiled. "Santana asked me."

Quinn gasped, "She did? ! How? !"

"She asked me if I'd do her the honors of being her girlfriend. And I said yes."

"Oh my God!" Mercedes practically melted into the back of the couch. "Did you cry? How were you positioned? What were you guys talking about before she asked you? Did you cry? !"

"Mmm-hmmm. But only 'cause I was crying already." The blonde suddenly furrowed her eyebrows at the girl she was still sprawled across. "You didn't win that round!"

"Yeah-huh! I used explosion. Explosion beats anything," Santana insisted.

"There's no such thing as explosion."

"Yes there is!"

"Fine. Then I get to use axe."

"Explosion beats axe."

"Who says?"

"The rules. Explosion beats everything!"

"That's not fair! If you keep using explosion then I'll never win," Brittany pouted.

"How about you do axe next round and I'll do scissors."

"Okay. But no cheating and switching to explosion."

"I won't. Promise."

"Hey, yo ladies!" Lauren waved her arms out in front of her. "Bring it back to the story. We wanna know all the dirty, grimy details."

"Oh!" Brittany widened her eyes as she remembered she was in the process of saying something. "Well, after Santana asked me to be her girlfriend I pretended I was going to think about it. She got fake angry and began tickling me until I said yes and then we started making out. It was cool because at one point she had me pinned against the –"

"Britt!" Santana yelped, her face suddenly becoming a few shades redder. "Can we not?"

"Seriously. I didn't mean _those_ kinds of details," a slightly disturbed Lauren added.

Confused, the Dutch girl raised one eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. "Well what kind of details did you mean?"

"Like what led up to Santana asking you out? What were you guys talking about before she popped the question?"

"Oh. Just some stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Private stuff," Brittany shrugged her shoulders.

"Yes, private. Meaning it's a secret. As in if you tell anyone about any of this I will hunt you down and I will hang you by your earlobes from the gym rafters. You got that? Not a word to _anyone_. I'm serious," Santana took a moment to look into each and every single one of the Glee members eyes, giving them all her famous death glare.

The Latina suddenly felt herself becoming extremely frightened at the thought of other people knowing about her relationship with Brittany - a thought she's always been afraid of but never considered actually becoming necessary. She was well aware of the fact that they lived in a small town in Ohio, home to the most closed minded people in the world. If word got out that she was dating another girl she knew nothing good would come of the situation. She couldn't let people make fun of her or talk behind her back or make going to school a living hell. And she certainly couldn't let any of that happen to Brittany. There was no way Santana was going to put herself and the girl she loved in that kind of situation. Which was why she absolutely refused to tell anyone about becoming an official couple with Brittany.

And yet she found herself telling her teammates without the slightest bit of worry. Somewhere deep down Santana knew that none of the people who were currently spread about the blonde's living room would even consider spreading the word around school that her and Brittany were dating. There was an unwritten rule amongst the Glee kids that no matter what happened they would never divulge another member's secret. Sure they constantly made fun of one another but at the end of the day, they all had each other's backs. At the end of the day Santana knew she could tell them she was in love with her best friend and she knew she wouldn't regret it.

While the brunette remained lost in her thoughts, Brittany was battling with her own. Looking around at the group, she slowly raised her hand and patiently waited until she was called on.

"Yes Brittany?" Kurt gestured towards her.

"Um, I was just wondering. Did we ever come up with a way to kill Artie? Because I got really excited about that."

Everyone chuckled at Brittany's statement before getting back into their discussion on killing the wheelchair boy. Once they had finally come up with a plan they all high fived and sat back comfortably and let a calm silence take over the room. The only interruption came from a rather passionate exchange between the cheerleaders sitting on the chair together when Santana reminded the Dutch girl that she owed her a kiss for allowing Mercedes to spill the beans on their relationship. After a few overly dramatic cries of disgust ultimately split the girls up, Santana immediately began cursing everyone out.

However, those present in Brittany's living room would swear until the day they died that amongst the death threats and insults to their families, the Latina uttered a couple of thank yous along the way.

But it's not like her comments really bothered any of them anyway. There was no way they were going to let a few vicious words affect their happiness. Why?

Because "Operation Artie Is A Dead Man" was officially a-go.

* * *

**Well, there you have it.**

**Sorry about the ending. I had absolutely no idea how I was going to transition into the finish of this chapter. Cause I knew how I wanted it to end but I didn't know how I wanted to get there. Hopefully it wasn't too bad.**

**Any ideas on how they're going to make Artie pay?**


	9. Take Me Instead

**Wow. I am so sorry for not updating sooner! Life just sort of got in the way for a while. But I'm here now! Hopefully you all haven't left. **

**At one point in this chapter I mention the Glee Club rehearsing "Sing". Just know that in this version Sue is not going to be a part of Glee Club. I wanted to use a group song that wasn't for competition or anything monumental like "Born This Way." But I realized this past season has barely had any end of the episode group songs just for fun like they did in S1. So just pretend Sue was never included in that number.**

**Also, I'm not a man. And even though I have more guy friends than girl friends, I'm still not entirely sure how they interact / speak with one another. Which would explain why I wrote all the boys so awkwardly. Haha.**

* * *

The morning after the Glee Club's rather interesting brainstorm session, Brittany and Santana showed up to school earlier than usual so as not to miss a single person entering the building. Once they arrived, the Latina carefully maneuvered her mom's old BMW into the spot she was certain would provide them with the best vantage of the parking lot. When she was positive no damage was done to the vehicle – otherwise she was doubly dead (once for scratching the car and once for borrowing it without permission) – the cheerleaders got out, climbed up onto the trunk, and sat so their legs were hanging over the side. While the dancer worked on getting the straws into two Capri Sun packets, the brunette had an unnecessary struggle with a bag of Swedish Fish. After finally prevailing over the uncooperative seal, Santana placed the candy between her and Brittany and held out a greedy hand for her fruit punch. Within seconds the smaller girl had finished downing her juice and was about to see how many gummies she could fit into her mouth when a voice she hadn't heard all morning suddenly spoke up beside her.

"I don't get it," Brittany announced solemnly as she idly swung her foot back and forth so her heel was rhythmically tapping the car.

"What don't you get sweetie?" Santana asked right before biting the head off of a single fish. Years ago the two girls realized gummies were fish too, and just like any other fish they had feelings. In order to prevent hurting those feelings, and causing more pain than there needed to be, the cheerleaders always made sure they bit the heads off first. That way the fish wouldn't feel the rest of their bodies being eaten.

Brittany took a quick sip of her juice before starring off blankly at the football field. "I just don't get why we're not killing Artie. Isn't that the whole reason why everyone came over yesterday? So we could figure out how he was going to die?"

"B," Santana chuckled softly, turning so that her entire attention was focused on the blonde sitting next to her, "we're not actually going to _kill_ Artie. Ending his life was never an option."

"Then why did we make plans to?"

"We didn't… Were you not listening to a word that was said yesterday?"

The dancer furrowed her eyebrows and bit her lip in concentration as she thought back to the previous day. "No. I'm pretty sure I zoned out for a little bit towards the end," her voice sounding as unsure as the slow shake of her head.

"I don't blame you. Queen of the Dwarves spoke so much half my brain cells exploded. By the end of the day I wanted to punch a baby."

"But you always want to do that."

"I don't _always,_" the smaller girl defended. "Anyway, that's not the point here. After midget girl finally stopped her yammering we came up of a different plan that doesn't involve us killing Artie. Otherwise we would go to jail for murder. And we don't want to do that."

"Got it," Brittany nodded in understanding. She was only allowed five seconds of clarity before confusion overtook her senses once more. "Why not?"

"Because," Santana answered with a calm she saved only for the Dutch girl, "if we go to jail there's no way we could still be a couple. We couldn't even be friends."

"Sure we can! We'll just ask to bunk together like we did when we went to cheerleading camp. And then when everyone goes to sleep we'll be super quiet and try to make lady babies like we used to."

"As totally _awesome_ as having sex in a cell full of perverted inmates and bad lighting with you sounds, jail doesn't work like that. You can't just go in requesting who you'll be bunking with for the next million years."

"You can't?" The blonde's face fell as she watched the brunette shake her head. "That sucks. Well then we _definitely_ don't want to kill Artie."

"No we don't. Jail bad. Freedom good."

"Mhmmm. And being your girlfriend is _super_ good."

Brittany looked over at the Latina with sparkling blue eyes and waited for the shy smile that would soon appear on her girlfriend's face. Sure enough, it wasn't long before Santana broke out into a grin and stared deep into the girl opposite her.

"Being your girlfriend is the best thing that's ever happened to me," she confessed taking one of Brittany's hands in her own.

Santana quickly looked around to make sure none of the students who were starting to arrive were watching the exchange about to happen between them. Confident they were all busy with their own lives, and too preoccupied to notice a couple of cheerleaders sitting on a car and eating Swedish Fish, the smaller girl leaned in to press her lips securely against Brittany's. After a few seconds of sheer bliss that felt like an eternity, Santana pulled away so she could watch the blonde's eyes open delicately.

With the kiss coming to a much too abrupt ending, Brittany slowly licked her lips so she could taste as much of the Latina as possible. An embarrassed smile tugged at the corners of her mouth when she saw dark, brown eyes staring at her with such an intense adoration it was enough to make a grown man cry. But the moment those same eyes resumed darting back and forth across the parking lot in their feverish attempt to catch any unwanted onlookers, Brittany's smile was lost.

"Why are you doing that?" she asked quietly, fiddling with her now empty juice box.

Keeping her gaze fixated on anything but Brittany, Santana answered absentmindedly, "Doing what?"

"Trying to see if anyone is watching us."

The brunette quickly switched her focus and presented her girlfriend with an obvious tilt of her head. "I was just checking to make sure we didn't accidentally kill a few kids or impregnate anyone with our incredible hotness. I'm looking out for the well-being of our fellow students," she stated, placing her hand over her heart.

"So you don't care if anyone sees?" Brittany questioned further, raising an eyebrow in accusation.

Santana opened her mouth to respond but her attention was quickly altered when flashes of green, blue and red lights got caught in the corner of her eye.

"ARTIE!" she shouted, hoping off the back of the car to make a mad dash across the parking lot towards the unmistakable wheelchair.

With Brittany close on her heels, Santana sprinted over to the now visibly paling boy until both cheerleaders were standing in front of him. The Latina couldn't help but smile as she watched Artie's face contort into sheer panic when he saw who was calling him. Seeing him look like his heart was about to stop was definitely making things much easier for the brunette. Because even though Santana wanted nothing more than to rip his throat out she knew she had to maintain a perfect smile if she wanted their plan to work.

"Hey," she greeted slightly out of breath.

Against his better judgment, Artie cleared his throat and addressed the girls staring down at him.

"Hello," he nodded, unable to hide the slight tremor in his voice.

"What's up? Anything new happen since last time I saw you?" the smaller girl asked cheerfully while Brittany only chewed on her lip; making a point to avoid any and all eye contact with her ex at all costs.

"Uhh…"

"What's wrong? You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"Well… I," Artie continued to stammer.

"Yeah, I don't have time to translate. So come on, walk with us. We don't want to be late for first period now do we?" Santana turned to walk towards the school, latching on to the dancer's pinky while doing so. The two girls only made it a few steps when a timid voice ceased their motion.

"You guys aren't going to take me out back and chop me into little pieces are you?"

The Latina slowly pivoted on her heels to present Artie with the most confused look she could muster – years of staring at Brittany finally paying off. "What makes you think we would do something like that?" she asked as innocently as possible.

"Oh I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you've threatened to kill me multiple times within the past twenty four hours?"

"Those were just empty words. Why would I take the time out of my busy schedule, dirty my fingernails and risk going to jail in order to kill you myself?"

The way Santana was smiling at Artie forced a heavy lump to rise in his throat. He was just about to respond when Brittany spoke for the first time since confronting him.

"Besides. You can't have sex in jail. So," the Dutch girl sucked in her lips and released them with a tongue click, jutting her chin out in a nod, "I think you're fine."

"Exactly. No need to be afraid of us," Santana said as she resumed her original plan to head towards the school.

With their conversation coming to a close, the three teammates made their way through the parking lot rather awkwardly. While Artie kept steeling glances at the two girls to make sure they weren't going to pull a knife on him, the cheerleaders kept a watchful eye out for a particular red Lexus. Santana prayed the owner of the vehicle wasn't going to screw up the timing otherwise she was going to be rip shit pissed. Although based on their excitement yesterday, the brunette was confident everything was going to go according to plan.

And boy was she right. Seconds later Brittany and Santana spotted the desired car come whipping around a corner, completely oblivious to its surroundings. The cheerleaders immediately stopped walking and watched as Artie continued to roll in front of the swerving vehicle.

Artie was completely unaware as to what was happening until the Lexus was practically on top of him. He remained stationary in the middle of the lane, gapping at the fast approaching car, unable to figure out what direction to push his chair in to avoid being run over. Right before the car was going to collide with his scrawny, little body he suddenly felt his wheelchair being yanked backwards with extreme force. It took him a while but he was finally able to stop the motion picture that was his life from flashing before his eyes so he could function enough to thank whoever rescued him. Turning around to face his savior, Artie's mouth dropped when he saw who was holding on to his handle bars.

"DAMMIT FABRAY!" Santana shrieked after the retreating car. "Watch where you're fucking going! What if this was your daughter? !" The Latina looked down at the shaking boy, feigning concern, "You okay, Wheels?"

"I hope you're not hurt. I was so worried," Brittany deadpanned; her efforts in trying to look sincere were slightly on the lacking side.

"Yeah… I… Um… okay," Artie gasped.

"Man! That was close! You better pay more attention to where you're going next time!" the brunette declared as she linked arms with her girlfriend and started for the school once more. They had only taken a few steps when Santana turned around with a mischievous smile plastered to her face. "I'd hate to see you get yourself killed."

And with those final words the cheerleaders disappeared into the sea of students, leaving a somewhat flustered Artie behind.

When they were certain Artie was out of earshot, Brittany and Santana immediately burst out into a fit of hysterics.

"I seriously thought Quinn was going to run him over!" the blonde informed, bending over when her stomach began to cramp from her laughter.

"She definitely wasn't going to stop, was she? If I hadn't pulled him away from in front of her, she probably would have actually killed him."

"He would have made a crunching noise."

"That's disgusting," Santana announce with a disapproving look.

"What?" Brittany raised a shoulder defensively. "He would have! He would have gone _crunch_ and then he would have gone _splat_!"

"Okay can we _please_ stop talking about Artie crunching and splatting? Thanks."

"Fine."

Arm in arm, the two girls slowly made their way through the school. Every few seconds Santana would take the time to glare at anyone whose gaze lingered longer than necessary on their conjoined bodies. She was absolutely willing to risk going to jail if people didn't stop staring real soon. Thankfully they made it to their lockers before any unsuspecting students wound up missing, dead, or both.

The Latina was able to open her locker without any problems and quickly started rummaging through her school supplies to get everything she needed for her first few classes. Unfortunately her other half was not having the same amount of success.

Fiddling madly with her lock, Brittany let out a frustrated groan when after her fifth try it still wouldn't open. Santana chuckled to herself before reaching over to place delicate fingers on top of the pale ones struggling with the dial.

"Here. Let me do it."

"DON'T!" the dancer shouted, causing brown eyes to widen in shock. "I got this, San."

"Okay, okay," Santana raised her hands in apology. "No need to get snappy. My bad."

Brittany turned back to the stubborn lock and furrowed her eyebrows for a few seconds as she stared at the opposing object. Letting out a determined breath she reached back up and tried plugging in her combination for a sixth time.

"Seventeen…"

"Eighteen," Santana whispered, reaching into her own locker to pull out a notebook.

"Eighteen… Twenty-three…"

"Thirty-two."

"Eighteen… Thirty-two… five…?" Brittany chanced a tentative peek at the girl next to her and smiled when she saw Santana nodding into her Chemistry book. Turning the dial to the last number Brittany finally opened her locker with ease. "HA! Told you I could do it!"

"I never doubted you."

As the cheerleaders finished up gathering the necessary books for the day, a thick shadow descended upon them, covering the girls in a protective darkness. Santana didn't even have to turn around to know who was blocking their source of light.

"Hey Noah," she grinned, still rummaging through her locker for a pen.

"What's up, ladies?" Puck asked from behind them.

"Nothin'," Brittany shrugged.

"_Nothing? !_ Stop lying and tell him what you just did!" Santana playfully slapped the taller girl's shoulder.

"Oh. Well," Brittany tossed her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly and turned so she was facing the jock, "Not to brag or anything, but uh, I opened my locker without needing Santana to do it for me."

"No shit! B that's awesome!" Puck said proudly, ruffling the top of her head. After she bowed a few times and fixed her hair, the football player propped his left forearm over his head against the lockers next to Brittany and took the smallest of sips from the cherry slushie he was holding in his other hand. "He's here today right?" he asked when he finished swallowing, turning his attention to the Latina.

"Yup," Santana confirmed.

"And you're sure he's going to walk by us?"

"Any second now."

"Sweet. So I take it this morning went well?"

"Quinn certainly took her job seriously."

"Good." He paused to lean his back on the cool metal and kick one foot up behind him so his sole was resting flat against a locker. Puck took the opportunity to nod absentmindedly a couple of times before facing the smaller girl yet again. "So like there's no doubt in your mind that he's going to come this way?"

"_Dude?_ Chill. He'll be here."

As if her words were magic, the trio spotted Artie rolling down the hallway in their direction. Based on how tightly scrunched his face was, it was definitely safe to assume the boy was on a mission. Though when he eventually spotted Brittany, Santana and Puck huddled together only a few feet away, it was obvious his mission had failed. Stopping for a split second, Artie took a deep breath and resumed his trek to class as if nothing was wrong. When he got closer to the group Puck stepped forward, making it physically impossible for Artie to get around him.

"Sup, Arsters."

Refusing to lift his eyes to meet the ones above him, Artie spoke as evenly as he could. "Hi."

"Hey man, listen. I just wanted to apologize for everything yesterday. I was way out of line and it was totally not okay that I tried to throw you into a wall."

"It's cool. Whatever. Look, I really gotta get to class." The death glare he was getting from Santana was enough to stop an elephants heart and Artie wanted nothing more than to be as far from her wrath as possible. Unfortunately, the obstacle standing in front of him was too distracted by a new presence to allow any room of escape.

"Sam, buddy! What's happening?" Puck raised his hand out towards the approaching blonde.

"Nuttin' much. Just chillin'."

As one of the newest members of Glee club accepted the high five, the two boys embraced in one of the most clumsy man hugs ever to be seen. The moment their bodies collided, Puck strategically lost his grip on his slushie and it landed upside down in Artie's lap, completely covering him in icy, red liquid. Due to the fact that his man parts were now frozen, Artie was completely oblivious to the stifled giggles above him.

Thankfully, before their cover was blown, Puck regained his composure and substituted his laughter for a much more astonished expression. "Yo, dude! I am so sorry! I did not mean to give your testicles frost bite."

He quickly bent down to try and help clear off some of the iced liquid but was stopped by a firm hand over his own.

"No, no. I got it. It's fine," Artie gasped; partly from embarrassment and partly from the cold.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I'm sure. Thank you though."

"Man, I can't believe I just did that! I am such an _idiot_!"

"Don't worry about it. I'm just gonna go clean up. I'll see you guys later."

Mortified, the wheelchair clad boy quickly rolled away in pursuit of the nearest bathroom. The second he rounded the corner, the two cheerleaders and football players participated in a _very_ enthusiastic four way high five.

"Guys… I think that's the first time in my life I've ever apologized for giving someone a slushie," Puck informed once he finally stopped doing a victory dance with Brittany.

"So? It's not like you meant it," the blonde girl pointed out.

"You speak the truth."

Santana was just about to throw in her two cents when she suddenly felt her pocket vibrating. She immediately pulled out her phone and read over the text she had just received. After sending a quick response, the Latina clued the others in on what was happening.

"Well, it looks like I've gotta go save Artie from falling down the stairs," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Lauren and Mercedes have him?" Sam asked.

"Uh-huh."

"That was fast."

"Mercedes is very passionate."

"How did he even get upstairs anyway? His wheels don't fit on the steps."

"Are you serious right now? It's called an elevator, dipshit. How I'm surprised you even know how to dress yourself in the morning. Anyway, I better go. Unless I want Wheezy to push him before I give her the signal. Which might not be such a bad idea…" Santana tapped her lips with the tip of her finger, pretending to ponder that thought. She was quickly brought back to reality when her girlfriend's alarmed voice rang out above the hum of the rest of the student body.

"NO!" Brittany gripped the smaller girl's arm with such intensity it made Puck hurt. "No jail, remember? !"

Her eyes were so wide with panic the brunette couldn't help but think of one of those strange, little jungle creatures. Even though she tried everything in her power to be sympathetic towards the dancer, Santana couldn't help but chuckle lightly as she enveloped Brittany in a tight embrace.

Running her fingers softly through blonde hair, the Latina whispered in a gentle voice most people didn't know existed, "It's okay, Britt. Don't worry. No one's going to jail. _Especially_ not me."

"Cross your heart?"

"And hope to live forever."

"Good. 'Cause I really wanna be with you." The Dutch girl paused to take a shaky breath when a new thought entered her mind, "You still want to be with me, right?"

"What kind of question is that?" Santana squeezed her girlfriend even tighter to remind her no one was going anywhere. "Of course I want to be with you. I'm gonna be with you until the end of the world. Alright? Do you trust me?"

"Yeah."

"Then you know I would never do anything to risk being separated from you. Okay? I love you too much."

Santana turned her neck so she was able to give a quick peck to the side of the taller girl's head. She then buried her face in Brittany's collar, and stayed there until both girls could hear incessant mocking coming from their side.

"Brittany and Santana kissin' in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G! First comes looooove. Then comes marriage. Then comes the baby in the baby carriage!"

When the cheerleaders broke apart to face the source of ridicule they saw Puck groin thrusting like it was going out of style, and Sam slapping an imaginary ass.

"Shut the fuck up!" The Latina pulled away from Brittany and didn't hesitate to punch both of them square in the chest, making the obnoxious display come to an immediate halt. "Nimrods."

"Owww! Bitch!" Puck whimpered while rubbing his sore spot.

"Oh quit your whining. You are such a pansy ass."

"And you're mean."

"Whatever. You love me."

"Occasionally. But no matter what I'll always love Brittany more. Isn't that right, B?" The mohawk sporting jock side stepped around his female counter part and opened his arms to allow the Dutch girl to walk forward into his awaiting hug. With his arms wrapped securely around Brittany's neck he placed an obnoxious, wet kiss to the top of her head. "Mmmmmuah! I love you my little duckling!"

"I love you too Papa Bear!" Brittany struggled to get out through the ever tightening squeeze Puck was putting her through.

"Let's have sex. Right now."

"M'kay. Mr. Kinney owes me a favor so we can use his supply closet."

"Excellent! This is going to be _amazing_!"

"Awww. You guys are cute," Santana cooed. "Just make sure to use protection. I don't want you getting her pregnant before I've at least had the chance to try myself."

"You got it boss," Puck said before trying to lick the squirming dancer's cheek.

"_Ewwww_! Cooties!" Brittany squealed as she continued her feeble attempts to dodge Puck's tongue. "San help me!"

Shaking her head the Latina laughed, "Nope. Sorry. You're on your own with this one. I've got places to go, people to see, assholes to save. You know. The usual."

"You're not coming with us?"

"Sorry babe, I can't. Remember? Mercedes and Lauren need me. Puck and Sam will walk with you to class."

"And we shall do so with pride and dignity!" Puck declared, somehow acquiring a British accent. At that he unwound himself from Brittany in order to offer his hand to her. "My lady," he bowed. "Would you care to accompany me to Glee rehearsal?"

Playing along with the charade, the Dutch girl curtseyed and took Puck's hand in her own. "Why, I would absolutely _love_ to my kind sir! What a noble gentleman!"

"A dios mio," Santana rolled her eyes at the scene before her. "I'm surrounded by a bunch of children."

"Jolly good! Let us be off!" Ignoring the latest remark from the smaller girl, Puck pointed one finger out in front of him and threw the other around Brittany's slender frame. "How do you prefer we get there? Do you suggest a light mosey or a vigorous skedaddle?"

"A vigorous skedaddle."

"Then skedaddle it shall be! Come Samuel! The fair maiden has requested a skedaddle!" The three friends turned to leave but were stopped dead in their tracks before they could even begin.

"FREEZE!" Santana waited until everyone was facing her again, "Alright, you guys know the rule. I expect a text from all three of you saying that Brittany made it to class safely. Do I make myself clear?"

"God… _yes!_" Sam huffed, rolling his eyes. "We get it! This isn't the first time we've walked her to class you know."

"Do I detect a bit of complaint?" The blonde boy shook his head frantically. "That's what I thought. Alright you goofs. None of us want to be late. Go be free," Santana waved them off. "And don't forget to use a condom!" she called out after the retreating "couple" who had their elbows interlocked and were now skipping down the hall.

Laughing to herself, Santana took off in the opposite direction where Artie was being held hostage by Lauren and Mercedes. If everything went according to plan, the girls should have been able to intercept him on his way to the bathroom ((forcing him to walk around with wet pants)) , steer whatever conversation they might have been having to the topic of proper weave application, and wind up at the edge of a staircase. Santana knew if there was one person who was going to do their job right it was Mercedes. Everyone was well aware of the face that the diva had a tendency to be extremely melodramatic when it came to hair extensions. So much so that she often became careless about what her hands were doing as she spoke. Careless enough to let them fly every which way and _accidentally_ whack into an unstable wheelchair. An unstable wheelchair that was conveniently placed in front of a flight of stairs and wouldn't stand a chance when pinned against gravity.

The brunette picked up her pace until she was running full speed down the halls in pursuit of the designated stair case. It physically destroyed her knowing she was about to save Artie's ass yet again, but Santana promised Brittany she wasn't going to do anything that would jeopardize their relationship. And if there was one thing Santana has never done in her entire life, it was break a promise she made with the dancer. That fact, and that fact alone, was the driving force motivating the Latina to side tackle anyone who got in her way of saving the boy she hated most in the world.

When she finally arrived at her destination a massive grin broke out across her face. Even from a good twenty feet away Santana could easily make out every word of Mercedes' raging tirade about how a synthetic weave is an insult to hair styles everywhere. After a few more seconds of listening to the reasons why someone who chose to get a synthetic weave should be put down, Santana decided Mercedes was done talking and she smashed her left palm against the closest locker, letting the clang of metal echo throughout the school. Mercedes didn't even flinch at the noise and she continued to raise her voice in protest.

"_That's_ why it should be illegal to use anything besides human hair as your weave! The fact that a person would even consider doing something so horrendous like putting fake hair on their head makes me absolutely _SICK_!"

And that's when she her arm "carelessly" swung to her out to her side and struck Artie's wheelchair, sending it teetering over the edge of the top step.

Artie immediately pushed forward on his back wheels with all his might but it was no use. His chair had already made it passed the ledge and the only way to go from there was down.

"MERCEDES!" Artie screamed, his voice cracking. "MERCEDES!"

To his horror the diva had turned her attention to Lauren and they appeared to be yelling at each other. But Artie couldn't hear a single word that was being said. All he could hear was the intense ringing in his ears that grew louder as he fell further down the stairs. His chair only tumbled over a grand total of three steps, though for him it felt like a million, before it was brought to an immediate halt. It was then forcefully shoved back up the stairs and when Artie felt himself on solid ground once more he started weeping.

"Oh my God, thank you so much!" he blubbered. "I thought I was going to die! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Don't sweat it," a familiar voice responded behind him. "But you do realize you owe me big time, right?" Santana then stepped around so she was squatting in front of the panicking boy and placed her forearms on his knees. "This is what? The second time I've saved your life today?"

"What… How did you….?"

"You really ought to be more careful, Artie."

"But…"

"You know, if you keep putting yourself in these situations and I'm gonna start thinking you actually _want_ to die." A flash of realization crossed the brunette that morphed her face into a look of horror and she leaned in to whisper, "Wait. You're not… _suicidal_ are you?"

"WHAT? ! No!" Artie declared frantically. "Mercedes pushed me down the stairs!"

"Um, _excuse_ me? !" the diva interjected. "Now I _know_ you did not just accuse me of trying to end your life. Are you for real right now? !"

"Of course I'm for real! You purposefully just tried to kill me!"

"Ah hell no! Everyone knows I can't be held responsible for what happens when you stand too close to me while I'm speaking. It is your own damn fault you got in my line of fire."

"_My fault_? ! You're the one who needs to pay attention to what you're doing!"

Mercedes turned to Lauren and held up her hands in disgust, "There he goes again trying to put the blame on me."

"Douchebag," Lauren shook her head.

"Some nerve you got comin' all up in here and yelling at me for things that I didn't do! Hell! You are going to _HELL!_"

"Whoa," Santana stood up and gripped the diva's shoulder to prevent her from advancing further on Artie. "Calm down mama."

"Calm down? Calm _down_? ! Did you hear what that boy just said to me?" Mercedes was so livid she was practically spitting on the smaller girl.

"Yes, I heard him. But there's not need to be upset. It's not going to do you any good if you're going to get all worked up over nothing."

"NOTHING? !" Artie bellowed. "How can you call shoving me down the stairs _nothing_? !"

"Now Artie," the cheerleader faced him, raising her eyebrow in a reprimanding tone. "Mercedes didn't mean to push you down the stairs. It was an accident. What's done is done."

"But-!"

"Stop," Santana held up a hand, closing her eyes in exasperation. "Just go take a walk and cool off. We'll see you later in Glee and by then everyone will have forgotten what just happened."

"Lord knows I won't!" Mercedes hollered as Artie turned to leave. "Yeah you better walk away! Don't you _ever_ put the blame on Mercedes Jones again or I swear to God I will cut a bitch! You lousy excuse for a man! WALK AWAY!"

Artie took her words seriously and rolled away from the three girls as fast as he could. The second he got lost in the sea of students Santana dropped to her knees and threw her arms above her head, bowing over and over again at the diva.

"We are not worthy!" the brunette declared. "You are a queen amongst peasants!"

"Oh stop it," Mercedes flicked her wrist, blushing as she did so. "It really was nothing."

Lauren curled her fingers into a fist and shoved an invisible microphone in Mercedes' face. "Tell me, how were you able to pull off something so convincing? What kind of emotional baggage did you tap into to provide us with such an incredible performance such as that?"

"Years and years of pent up anger towards this one," Mercedes smacked the still kneeling Latina in the forehead with the back of her hand, "has finally been given the chance to be set free!"

"Ow! Hey!" Santana hollered while the diva continued to slap her repeatedly in the face.

"Oh quit your whining."

"Don't tell me what to do, bitch."

"I can do whatever I want, slut."

"Whore."

"Skank."

"Don't make me go all Lima Heights on your ass!"

"Bring it."

"Oh it's already been broughten!"

"You got that from a movie you plastic cheerleader!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa!_" Lauren stepped in so she was positioned between the bickering girls who were now standing nose to nose. "Let's all just step back, take a deep breath and return to our previous program where we were all civil to one another."

Santana started chuckling as she turned to place a hand on Lauren's shoulder, "Easy there tiger. We're just playin'. I would never waste my Lima Heights skills on Mercedes."

"Yeah. And Santana knows she's not a slut. She's a tramp." Mercedes informed.

"Exactly. There's a _huge_ difference."

Lauren looked on at the two girls with confusion, trying to figure out what was happening. The way their eyes softened as they continued to laugh together wasn't making any sense. They were supposed to be mortal enemies for Pete's sake! Or so Lauren thought. But, then again, she might have missed the memo. "Wait. I'm confused. Are you guys like… friends now?"

"_WHAT_? !" both girls shrieked in unison.

"Ew! That's disgusting! Why would you even think something like that? !" Mercedes questioned, her voice cracking at the amount of horror it possessed.

"Ugh, I feel like I have to shower now," the brunette shuddered.

"Same."

"I just lost respect for you."

"Yeah, me too. Come on, let's go. We don't' want to miss Glee rehearsal do we?" Mercedes took the lead as the three girls made their way to the choir room.

On the way to rehearsal the trio received multiple looks from the other students wandering about the halls. No one had _ever_ seen Santana Lopez associate herself with anyone who wasn't on the cheerleading squad. So it came as shock capable of stopping people in their tracks to not only see Santana hanging out with different people, but to see Santana hanging out with Mercedes Jones and Lauren Zizes.

Just like everyone else noticed who Santana was walking with, Santana noticed how everyone was making zero attempts at hiding their stares. Normally she would have reveled in the attention but something was wrong this time. Something about the way they were furrowing their eyebrows or how their mouths were hanging wide open made the Latina feel extremely uncomfortable. Like they knew who she was. Not just Santana Lopez the Crazy Head Bitch, but Santana Lopez the Girl Who's Madly In Love with Another Girl.

She knew she was over reacting and that no one could possibly have any idea about what was going on between her and Brittany. Bu she knew one day they would. And when that day happened she would be getting a whole lot more than a few perplexed stares. People would start to act out towards them. There would be teasing, slushie facials, verbal or physical abuse, hate crimes –

_STOP IT! _Santana screamed at herself. _Nothing bad is going to happen. No one is going to find out any time soon. So just calm your tits and get over yourself. You're about to see Brittany and you don't want to show her that you're – _

"SANTANA!"

Before the brunette could process what was happening there was a whir of motion and Brittany was slamming herself into the smaller girl's body. With all the thinking she had been doing in the past several minutes, Santana didn't realize she had made it into the choir room until her girlfriend was crushing her waist with long, toned arms. The brunette wasn't even aware of the goofy smiles or tender looks the rest of the Glee members were shooting towards them as she wrapped her arms tightly around Brittany's shoulders and gave a good, hard squeeze.

"Hey Britt-Britt! Long time no see!"

"I missed you so much!"

Santana leaned back so she was staring directly into sparkling blue eyes. "We've only been apart for like, five minutes," she laughed.

"Those were the longest five minutes of my life!"

"You are such a goofball. Did you know that?"

"Yeah," Brittany smiled. "But I'm _your_ goofball."

There was no need for Santana to say anything more in order for both girls to know that she was speaking. It was as if a single word, a single touch, or a single smile had the ability to connect their minds with a force so powerful neither of them could describe it. Now that they wanted to, even if they could because they knew words would only diminish it. But they knew it was there. And it was this force that caused Brittany and Santana to tilt their necks forward until their foreheads were touching, their eyes closing at the contact.

The two cheerleaders stayed like that, their bodies becoming one entity, until a slight cough could be heard from beside them. Santana immediately pulled away and shot her brown eyes, filled with absolute repulsion, towards the cause of disruption.

"_What? !_" she hissed.

"Um… I… um…" Sam stuttered nervously. "Well um, I was just uh… wondering if we still had to text you about Brittany making it to class safely."

The smaller girl scrunched her face in disbelief at the sheer stupidity that could be Sam Evans. "I'm pretty sure I can tell that she made it to here in one piece. Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No. I just wanted to check. _Sorry._" There was just enough sarcasm in his voice to challenge Santana on her nice days.

"But what I don't understand," Santana carried on completely ignoring the "apology", "is why I didn't already get a text when I was with Mercedes and Lauren. You guys should have been here a while ago."

"Brittany didn't skedaddle fast enough," Puck called out from where he was trying to stick pencils into the ceiling.

"NO!" the Dutch girl shrieked. "_He's_ the one who made us slow down when we passed the freshman hallway!"

"Lies."

"I'm not lying! San, I swear I'm not lying!"

Before Santana could respond the whole room suddenly erupted with the noise of eleven friends having a good time together. While some chose to participate in the fake bickering match, others opted to entertain themselves with humor they actually understood. But regardless of whether or not they were fighting, trying to figure out why people were fighting, or completely disconnected from any kind of fighting at all, it was clear everyone felt like they were home in that small choir room; yelling and laughing together like any dysfunctional family would do. And it was peaceful, each member knowing they were surrounded by people who, no matter how much grief they gave each other on a daily basis, would always have their backs if things got sticky. That thought alone was enough to blanket the small group in a comfortable bliss.

At least it was.

Until Mike's soft whisper silenced everyone mid thought.

"Guys," he breathed out nodding his head towards the door.

Everyone turned to follow his gaze and all conversations ended when they saw Mr. Schuester and Artie coming in through the open door. The faintest sounds of suppressed laughter could be heard coming from those who weren't there to witness the slushie debacle when they saw how wet Artie's pants really were. Rachel even went as far as to give Puck a high five when neither Artie nor Mr. Schue were looking in her direction.

As the Glee members analyzed the sight before them, it wasn't clear whether or not the two men simply bumped into each other on the way to rehearsal or if Mr. Schue was escorting Artie into the room in the hopes of preventing a wild feeding frenzy. Though, based on the way the teacher smiled warily upon entering the choir room it was safe to assume his motives were of the latter. The two slowly approached the now perfectly still clump of students and stopped at a safe distance away before Mr. Schue spoke up.

"Hey guys. How's everything going?"

"Fine," everyone murmured in unison.

"Excellent. I was thinking today we could start off rehearsal with the anthem 'Sing' by My Chemical Romance. Sound good?"

After getting nods of approval, which were extremely lacking in the enthusiastic department, from his students Mr. Schue got everyone into their places and started up the band. Once cued, the club broke out into song and began dancing around the choir room as instructed. Mr. Schue had made it extremely clear that he wanted this song to be sung from the heart, and that he wanted the dance moves to be big and energetic. And no other member was taking that job more seriously than Tina, Mike and Finn.

The three friends were bouncing off the walls as they belted out the tune at the top of their lungs. Mike was practically throwing Tina up into the air as the trio made their way around the room until they were standing behind Artie. While the unsuspecting boy had his attention elsewhere Mike twirled Tina around so fast she "accidentally" let go of his hand. She spun violently into Finn, causing him to lose his balance and go tumbling over into the back of Artie's wheelchair sending it barreling forward until it ultimately crashed into the drum set.

"Artie, are you okay?" Mr. Schuester cried out as he ran over to help Artie untangle himself from the snare.

"No I am _not_ okay!" Artie screamed at the now flustered man before him. "All day everyone has been doing things to either piss me off or kill me and I'm sick of it!"

"Artie, take a deep breath and just calm down, okay? I'm sure no one in this room has done anything to purposefully upset you."

"Oh really? Quinn tried to run me over in the parking lot! Puck dropped his slushie all over my lap! Mercedes pushed me down the stairs! And now Finn is throwing himself at me so I go crashing into things! The only person here who hasn't been involved in anything is Rachel!"

"That's only because after I proposed my idea it was put to a vote and our fellow members deemed it too violent and refused to let me carry through with my plan," the starlet informed from the seat she had taken when Mr. Schue stopped the music.

"_SEE? !_ They're all out to get me!"

Running his hands through his hair and breathing out defeated Mr. Schue accepted his loss. "Okay. I think we're done for the day. Remember, rehearsal after school tomorrow. And I want whatever's going on between you guys," he waved a hand at the snickering students in front of him, "and you," he shifted his gaze to Artie, "to be resolved. We're not going to win Nationals if we're not working together as a group. Hopefully tomorrow things will go better."

And with that he made a bee line to the conjoining office and shut the door, unwilling to deal with what he could only assume were PMSing teenagers any longer.

With Mr. Schuester gone, and the protective shield Artie had been counting on missing, he quickly rolled out of the classroom to avoid any more torment from the people he was convinced were going to murder him in his sleep.

Once Artie was no longer tainting the air with his presence Santana wrapped her arm around her girlfriend's shoulders. "Well, I definitely think that went wonderfully. Wouldn't you agree, Britt?"

"Mhmm," Brittany nodded. "That was fun. Can we do it again?"

"Please. And next time I would like to partake in the activities. If you don't mind," Rachel announced.

"We'll think about it," Mercedes said. "But only if you promise to leave your blow torch at home."

Rachel held up three fingers and smiled. "Scouts honor."

"Alright you guys," the Latina laughed as everyone in the group started up their own conversations again, "Britts and I are gonna jet. We'll see you tomorrow."

"You're not going to the rest of your classes?" Tina asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Nah. Her teachers don't really care if she's there or not and mine are too afraid of me to do anything about it," Santana shrugged.

"Damn. I wish I was that badass," Finn fantasized.

"Yeah keep dreaming over there Frankenteen." The brunette waved to the rest of the people in the room, "Alright, later guys."

"Bye!" Brittany smiled.

With those parting words Santana linked the dancer's pinky in her own and the cheerleaders made their way out of the choir room. With everyone still in their first period class the hallways were completely deserted, leaving them free to act like themselves.

Or so they thought.

Upon rounding the first corner the two girls were taken aback by the unexpected person placed in the middle of the hall. Their innocent giggles were soon lost to the slightly nervous expressions that overtook their features. They only hesitated for a moment before continuing at a much more solemn pace as they walked by the boy staring coldly at them.

"Thank you Santana," Artie said when the cheerleaders were just about to pass him.

The smaller girl only tightened her grip on Brittany's finger, keeping her head high in an effort to ignore what was being said to her.

"You know, for saving my life twice today. I just hope you don't have to worry about saving _her_ life when something happens to her if, God forbid, people start finding out about what's going on between you two."

At those words Santana felt like a two ton brick was just thrown at her stomach, leaving her winded and shaking. She stopped dead in her tracks and nearly caused Brittany to topple over from the sudden loss of motion. The Latina didn't realize her left hand had balled itself up into a fist until she felt her nails digging into her skin. Taking a deep breath in order to stay calm Santana unclenched her teeth and spoke only to Brittany.

"Go wait for me by the car," she said firmly, staring straight ahead and avoiding the blue eyes piercing her body.

"But why?" the dancer whined.

"Because I said so."

"But – "

"Brittany!" Santana closed her eyes to prevent herself from exploding at the wrong person. "Just. Go. I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay…"

The Dutch girl reluctantly released the hold she had on Santana's pinky and sulked down the rest of the hallway towards the parking lot. Once she was out of sight the brunette whirled around with an intensity she didn't even know she possessed. Her brown eyes turned black and narrowed to nothing more than tiny slits as she stood there fuming.

"What the _fuck_ did you just say? !" she spat.

Artie sat up straighter in his chair, a smug grin slowly creeping its way across his mouth when he realized he had finally found Santana's weakness. "I mean, I was just wondering. What happens if word gets out that you and Brittany are gay for each other? You know the kinds of people who go to this school. And you're not going to be by her side every minute of the day. It would suck if something were to happen to her while you were busy doing everything in your power to stay on top of the social ladder."

"Don't. You _dare_. Threaten Brittany! EVER!" Santana screamed as quietly as she could so as not to disturb the classes around her. "Threaten me all you want. I don't care. But if you _ever_ put Brittany's happiness on the line again, I will murder you! Do you understand?"

"You can't ignore the facts Santana. Look at what happened to Kurt when he came out. He was shoved into lockers, thrown into dumpsters, and slushied like it was nobody's business. And what happened to him before he was run out of the school? Karofsky threatened to kill him. Is that really what you want?"

"I can handle all of that. I can take getting bullied every day and shoved around like a rag doll. But Brittany can't. She's too fragile and innocent. She sees the good in everything and won't know what's hit her before it's too late." The Latina shifted her eyes to the floor and shook her head, trying to fight back the ever threatening tears. "You're right you know," she sighed.

"Right about what?" Artie said angrily.

"I won't always be there to protect her. I can't be with her twenty-four seven. She'll have to learn how to stand up for herself in order to stay safe for when I'm not around. She'll have to learn how to throw out insults, and shove people off of her, and turn her emotions off so the pain of what's happening to her won't hurt so badly she'll do anything to get rid of it. She'll start to see firsthand what the world is really like and it will change her."

"What are you talking about? It's not going to change her!" the wheelchair boy argued.

Santana took a menacing step forward so now there was only a little distance between her and Artie. Her breathing picked up to an alarming rate and it took every ounce of her strength not to pounce on top of the boy in front of her. "Are you _insane? !_ It will fucking _DESTROY _her!"

"How?"

"She'll become hard and cold. She'll close her heart off to the world because she won't trust it to make her happy anymore. She'll lose her innocence. That innocence that has the ability to the light up an entire stadium. That innocence that makes anyone gravitate towards her and instantly fall in love with her. If she has to put up with people threatening to kill her or saying nasty things to her before she's ready we'll lose her. We'll lose Brittany forever and we'll never get her back."

"You can't hide forever, Santana. People are eventually going to find out."

"And who's going to tell them? You?" The brunette took another step forward so she was practically on top of Artie. "Are you going to be the one to ruin the most amazing girl on this planet? Huh? Are you going to be the one who causes the light in Brittany's eyes to go out? Do you really want to be responsible for destroying the girl you claim to be in love with?"

"It'll destroy you too," Artie desperately tried to cling on to what little upper hand he thought he had left. He hoped by scaring Santana into thinking her life will be over she would leave Brittany in a fit of panic and he could be there to pick up the pieces. "You'll get picked on every day just like her."

"GOD!" Santana turned around and dug the heels of her hands into her tightly closed eyes. "Have you not been listening to a _word_ I've said? ! I DON'T CARE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO ME! I'm already a bitch! I'm already cold, and mean, and everyone already hates me. I don't care! What I care about is making sure Brittany doesn't lose herself. What I care about is making sure Brittany doesn't forget how to be happy. And if you stand in my way of that I will – I don't even know what I'm gonna do to you!"

Santana turned around to leave but only managed to take a few steps before whipping back around, all efforts of keeping her voice down forgotten.

"Fine. You know what? You win. You fucking _win!_ Because you're right. It _will_ destroy me. Being forced to watch Brittany slowly lose a little bit of herself every day will _kill_ me. Having to see her lose her happiness and her innocence will be the worst fucking pain anyone could ever put me through. And it's all thanks to you! Good job, Artie! You win! Congratu-fucking-lations!"

If Santana had to look at him, or even be in the same building as him, for another second there was going to be a mass murder on her hands. She stormed through the building and made it out to the parking lot in record time. Across the way Brittany could be seen pacing back and forth next to the passenger side door, idly kicking the ground and sending a few stones flying. Even from the distance Santana could see her huff impatiently.

When the dancer ultimately looked up from the rock she was playing with she spotted Santana quickly coming towards her. A giant smile immediately appeared on her face causing her blue eyes to sparkle in the afternoon sun.

"Hey!" she beamed.

"Get in the car. We're leaving," Santana ordered, not evening bothering to look at her girlfriend as she got into the driver's side.

"What's wrong?" the blonde asked anxiously, her eyes now bulging with worry.

"Just get in so we can go!"

"Santana, what happened?" Brittany stood rooted to her spot as she watched her girlfriend fumble madly with the car keys.

"BRITTANY, GET IN THE CAR! Now! Why can't you ever just listen to me for once?" the smaller girl snapped as she turned on the ignition.

Brittany didn't know how to respond. And even if she did she knew she wouldn't be able to make a sound over the growing lump in her throat. Santana _never_ snapped. At least not at her anyway. The only thing the blonde could think of doing was to open the car door, sit down, buckle up, stare out the window and let her tears silently fall as Santana sped away from William McKinley High School.

* * *

**Okay, so literally I finished this chapter, skimmed over it once for any blarring mistakes and posted it without really going through any edits. When I get home from work I'm going to fix things up because it's definitely not my best.**

**Let me know what you guys think! And sorry it's so long!**

**You all rock!**


	10. Cookies, Cream, and Oreos

**OH GOODNESS I'M FINALLY BACK! If you are unaware of my whereabouts I'll give you the spark notes version of what has happened: my computer crashed and I lost EVERYTHING! I was so distraught when I realized I had to re-write everything that I couldn't bring myself to do it. Then writers block happened. And then the next thing I knew it was a million months later. But I have finally busted out this chapter. I'm a little rusty so yes.**

**This story has officially gone AU I guess since Brittany and Santana are a couple on the show. Also, I have found myself loving Artie and it pains me to continue writing him as a jerk. Don't worry, I'm not about to change the story.**

**Anyway, I'm gonna go and allow you to read this chapter. Thank you so much for sticking with me and waiting so patiently for this next chapter. I really appreciate it! Hopefully it's not a disappointment.**

* * *

Atmospheric pressure is directly proportional to the weight of the air located above a specific measuring point. When the weight of the air above the measuring point is low, the pressure is low. When the weight of the air above the measuring point is high, then the pressure is high. And when the weight of the air surrounding the car carrying Brittany S. Pierce and Santana Lopez is impossibly heavy, tensions spiral.

Car rides between Brittany and Santana normally consisted of dangerous – and rather illegal – dance parties while they belted along to whatever iPod Brittany managed to plug in. They usually laughed and joked around about anything that popped into their heads, completely oblivious to the world passing by. But not today. Today Brittany and Santana sat in silence as they let the weight of what had happened earlier slowly seep through every inch of the car. Both girls felt their chests grow heavier and heavier with the threat of being smothered by the weight around them until they became so heavy neither one remembered what it was like to breathe properly.

It was impossible to determine who was impacted more by the day's events. Santana knew Brittany was hurting, but there was no way the dancer's pain compared to her own. She couldn't remember a time in her life when she had yelled at Brittany for anything; not even when Brittany claimed she was an experienced hairdresser and ended up making Santana's head look like it had just been through a blender. Santana never yelled at Brittany, that wasn't something she thought she even knew how to do. But she had yelled today. What was worse was that her anger wasn't even a result of the blonde's actions. The exchange between Santana and Artie shook her to her core and there was no controlling the rage that emanated from her body. Unfortunately, that rage attacked the one person she never dreamed of attacking.

Santana knew she messed up. She messed up and there was no taking it back. Clutching the steering wheel in a death grip so tight it made her fingers burn, Santana looked to the side in order to take in the girl situated in the passenger seat. Brittany sat hugging her knees to her body and her forehead rested on the window. She hadn't moved or said a word since she got in the car and Santana instantly became more guilt ridden at the site of her broken girlfriend.

"Brittany?" she spoke to the back of the dancer's head. "Britts, I'm sorry. Look, I didn't mean to yell at you back there. Can you please just forgive me? I'm really sorry."

Santana was greeted with only silence. The words Artie had spoken to her earlier were already boiling inside her body, making her blood run hot, and Brittany's lack of response was enough to send the brunette over the edge. Smashing her palm against the steering wheel, Santana pushed herself back into her seat as far as physics would allow her to and let out a strained cry of frustration.

Brittany remained indifferent as the smaller girl broke out into a temper tantrum. She didn't flinch when Santana blared down on the horn and cursed at the car ahead of them in Spanish. Her gaze never faltered from the trees whizzing by when Santana's anger was once again directed towards her.

"I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have yelled at you and I'm sorry! I mean, what more do you want me to say? !" Santana cried. When she didn't receive any sign that Brittany heard her she continued shouting this time her tone more hysterical, "I screwed up! I know I did! I screwed up and I feel like an idiot and I'm _sorry_!"

"Just watch the road," Brittany warned, her voice completely void of any emotion. The only thing she was concerned with at the moment was getting home in one piece, and she knew that wasn't going to happen if Santana planned on driving upset.

"Jesus, Britt! Can't you see I'm trying to apologize to you? I'm trying to say that I'm sorry and you won't even look at me!"

"Fine!" With as much overdramatic force as she could muster, Brittany pushed herself off the side of the car and whirled around in her seat so she was facing Santana. "Better? !"

"No because you're still upset!"

"That's because you're still yelling at me!"

"I'm not yelling at you!"

"Oh really? ! Well you're doing a great job at sounding like you are!"

"God, Brittany! Why do you have to be so difficult all the time? !" Santana yelled as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I – _I'm_ difficult?" the blonde stammered, flabbergasted.

"Yes! You are! I can never just have a normal conversation with you because you make _everything_ difficult!"

"You've never complained about it before!" Brittany's shrill tone was on the verge of becoming more hysterical than Santana's.

"That's because I didn't want to hurt you or your precious feelings! You're always so god damn happy all the time that it makes just being around you difficult! It's like I'm constantly walking on friggin' eggshells with you! I can never just say what I want because I'm too concerned with protecting you and making sure you're always happy!"

"No one said you still had to protect me, Santana! We're not six anymore!"

"If not me than who? Huh? Who else is going to protect you? It's not like there's anyone else who is able to understand your _insane_ mind! Don't tell me he can because we both know that's a lie. And lord knows you can't protect yourself!"

"How do you know? If you would just let me try I could! But you never let me! It's not like I always need you there for me!"

Santana let a disbelieving laugh explode from her chest, "Who the fuck are you kidding, Brittany? You can't even open your own locker with out my help! Without me you would still be that stupid little class idiot who's always getting shoved face first in the mud!"

And just like that, the ground dropped out from underneath her. The moment those words passed her lips a cold sweat broke out across her body and Santana stopped breathing. She was instantly thrust into a whirlpool of blackness where the only thing keeping her from passing out entirely was the high-pitched ringing her ears. If the car wasn't already stopped at a red light Santana was certain she would have crashed.

She suddenly became aware of the ragged breathing that seemed to reverberate throughout the car. When her vision finally cleared she was staring at a face that had gone dangerously pale. Brittany's mouth hung open and tears were already building up in her now red, puffy eyes. Neither girl could move. They remained frozen, staring at one another in disbelief, for what seemed like an eternity before Santana found her voice.

"Oh my God. Brittany…" she whispered. "I –"

Her words cut off abruptly by the car door slamming shut. The second Santana opened her mouth to speak Brittany hastily unbuckled herself and stumbled out onto the side of the road. She was vaguely aware of her name being screamed through an open window as she sprinted away from Santana's car as fast as possible. A curtain of tears layering her eyes horribly impaired her vision but she wasn't concerned about seeing what was in front of her. Brittany knew exactly where she was going. It was one of the few places in Lima she could locate with her eyes closed regardless of her starting point. She had been there countless of times before, however, she could only count on one hand the number of times she needed to go there because of something Santana did to upset her.

At the thought of Santana, Brittany let out a shrill cry as she bolted through the park. Her actions startled the children who were playing on the swings but she didn't care. The only thing she cared about was getting to where she needed to be.

It wasn't long before she violently threw open a door, took a flight of stairs three steps at a time, and was engulfed in strong arms capable of concealing her entire body. Brittany felt herself lowered gently onto a bed and held tighter as her guardian began to rock her back and forth.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong my little duckling? What happened to you?" Puck questioned softly when Brittany began to sob against his chest.

"San–Santana… Santana s–said…" Brittany hiccupped, desperately trying to get her words out.

"What did Santana say?"

"She said… that I w–was… she called me… Santana said…"

"Okay. It's okay," Puck soothed as he kissed the top of Brittany's head. "Take your time. I'm right here."

Brittany sobbed in Puck's arms for another two minutes before she was able to cough out, "Santana said what Artie said to me."

"I'm gonna _kill_ her!" Puck bellowed, his demeanor shifting instantaneously. He tried to get up so he could strangle the brunette but was stopped when Brittany desperately dug her nails into his back.

"NO!" she cried.

"What do you mean no? !"

"You can't kill her!"

"Why the hell not? ! We spent the past two days getting Artie back for what he said to you and now Santana says the same thing? Does she think it's okay for her to say those things just because she's your girlfriend?"

"Just… please don't kill her. We promised," Brittany begged.

Puck clenched his teeth and closed his eyes in disgust. He let out an exasperated breath; a sign that he had once again caved in to the one person who left him defenseless, "Fine. I won't kill her. Yet. But you better believe that the _second_ I see her face there is going to be serious hell to pay."

If the universe ever felt like listening, it was listening now. Clearly, it was on Puck's side for he barely finished speaking when Santana burst through his bedroom door in a mad frenzy.

"BRITTANY!" she screamed. "What the _hell_ were you thinking? ! You could have been killed! New rule: no jumping out of a vehicle while it's still in drive! Why would you even _do_ something like that? ! You scared the shit out of me!"

"HEY!" Puck barked. "Get the fuck out of my room right now before I do something that will land me in jail. You have no right to be here."

"Shut the fuck up, Puckerman! I'm not leaving."

"Yes you are. So unless you want me to throw you out myself, I suggest you turn around, march your selfish ass back down to your car, drive home, park in your garage, leave the motor running, and sit there so you can think about what you've done."

"You can't talk to me like that!"

"I can talk to you however the fuck I want to talk to you after what you said to Brittany! How could you fucking _do_ that Santana? ! You _know_ how painful those words are to her and you go ahead and say them anyway!"

Santana recoiled, her eyes bulging. Puck swung low and he swung hard. "I… I didn't mean –"

"What did we say, Santana? ! What did we promise when we were six? !"

"Look… you don't understand," she rambled. "Just… let me explain."

"Don't explain anything to me. Explain it to her." Puck broke the death stare he had been attempting to kill Santana with so he could address the broken girl in his arms.

Santana cautiously followed Puck's gaze and nearly doubled over as she felt her heart collapse on itself. For the first time upon entering Puck's room, Santana fully took in Brittany's crumbled form held together by the football player's arms. Brittany still refused to look at Santana and instead cowered deeper into Puck's embrace. She looked so little, so fragile, and so abused. This was not a Brittany that Santana had ever seen before. This Brittany was hurt more than she'd ever been hurt in her entire life. She was hurt by the hands of someone she never imagined hurting her. She was hurt by Santana.

That knowledge alone was enough to make Santana want to jump in front of a freight train. But she knew she had to explain herself first. She had to attempt to make things right before considering her other options. If Brittany refused to forgive her then there was always rush hour to look forward to.

Santana drove her thumb into the palm of her opposite hand and took a tentative step forward. "Brittany I – "

"That's close enough, Santana," Puck interrupted when she took another small step forward.

"How am I supposed to apologize from all the way across the room?"

"Figure it out."

"God!" Santana huffed. "Why do you always have to be such a dick to me?"

"I wouldn't have to be if you knew how to keep your damn mouth shut! You fucked up, Santana! You fucked up so now I get to be a dick to you."

"I KNOW I FUCKED UP!" Santana screamed, tears pricking her eyes. "I know that! Okay? ! I fucked up! I was pissed and I took it out on her and I shouldn't have done that. I'm the fucking worst person in the world! I know I am! But if you had just heard what Artie said to me – "

"DON'T!" Puck snapped. In the ten years that they had known him neither girl had ever heard his voice laced with so much hatred. "Don't play that card with me! This is _your_ fault! Not Artie's! If you weren't so fucking – "

"Stop."

A tiny voice escaped the crevices of Puck's embrace that stopped the ongoing argument dead in its tracks. Brittany shifted her head against Puck's chest until she could hear his heart racing. She patiently listened for it's rapid beating to slow to a safer pace before she spoke up once more.

"Maybe you should just go," Brittany whispered dejectedly.

"You heard the girl. Out," Puck ordered. He released his hold on the blonde and pointed harshly at the door.

"No," Brittany lifted her chin so she was looking directly into Puck's worried eyes. "She stays. You go."

"What? !" Puck cried in disbelief. "You're kidding right?" He grasped Brittany's shoulders and held her at arms length so he could search her face for any sort of hidden joke, but all she did was shake her head sadly.

"I need to talk to her alone. Please. Just go," Brittany begged.

"No! I am not leaving you alone with her! Not after what she did to you."

"Look at her, Puck. She's hurting too."

Reluctantly Puck tore his eyes away from Brittany's and glanced over at Santana. He was immediately caught off guard by what he saw and the glare on his face softened. Despite his efforts, Puck found it extremely difficult to remain as upset as he was. The girl he was looking at was not the girl he was used to seeing. She was no longer the cold, heartless demonic being that refused to share her emotions with anyone. She was no longer the eye rolling cheerleading captain that had a permanent scowl on her face. Instead, the Santana that Puck observed was a little girl cowering in his doorway, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she tried to prevent her body from shaking. Her harsh exterior collapsed and silent tears were running down her cheeks. In a matter of seconds, Santana Lopez transformed from Head Bitch In Charge to Little Girl Lost.

Sighing in defeat Puck looked back down at Brittany. "Alright," he agreed. "If that's what you want then fine. But if anything funny happens know I'll be standing right outside my door." He raised his eyes once more to meet the suffering brown ones across from him. "And if you do anything to hurt her again I will kill you before you can even process what is happening. Do you understand me?"

Santana flinched, but nodded her head slowly to say that, yes, she did understand. She contemplated stating the fact that she would kill herself long before Puck had the chance if she hurt Brittany again, but thought it was best to keep her mouth shut.

"Okay," Puck agreed against his better judgment. "I'm going. Holler if you need me."

He placed a gentle kiss to Brittany's forehead and whispered something only she could hear. Puck then slid off the bed and headed for the hall, his accusing eyes meeting Santana's before he disappeared around the corner.

Without Puck present in the room to distract from the real situation, Brittany and Santana were left to their own emotions. There had never been a point in either one of their lives when they could remember feeling awkward and uncomfortable around each other. The feeling was alien and Brittany never wanted to experience it again. She became lost in the struggle of figuring out what she was supposed to do. As angry and hurt as she was by Santana's words in the car, there was nothing she hated more than seeing Santana cry. Santana wasn't supposed to be the one who cried; that was her job. Santana was supposed to hold them together. She wasn't supposed to fall apart herself.

Brittany couldn't look at Santana any longer; if she did she knew she would cave. She shifted her gaze to the blankets beneath her and picked at a loose string. Suddenly, her ears perked up and she felt a wave of dizziness crash into her at the sound of a stifled sob coming from the doorway. Brittany hesitantly looked up and discovered the smaller girl had miraculously grown smaller as she broke down even further. The blonde felt her shoulders slump forward and, without thinking twice about what she was doing, she scooted over on the bed and patted the mattress beside her.

Santana was wrapped around Brittany in an instant. Her arms coiled around the dancer's neck and she grasped onto her own elbows in an effort to stabilize herself. She felt delicate hands slide up her back that held on to her just as tight.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Santana cried desperately into the crook of Brittany's neck.

Brittany didn't say anything and instead held Santana tighter. Just like that their roles were reversed. It was almost as if all the tears Brittany had shed over the past couple of weeks found a home within Santana and waited for the opportune moment to come pouring out all at once. The dancer didn't know exactly what she was supposed to do in this situation – especially when she was the one that was supposed to be upset over what had happened earlier – but she did know that she needed to calm Santana down before her hysterics got any worse.

"Hey, ssshhh, it's okay. No more tears. You're okay," Brittany soothed.

The calmness in the blonde's voice only caused Santana to cry harder.

"Santana, hey! Stop!" Brittany ordered, forcing Santana to sit up straight. "Just stop."

"I'm _so_ sorry Brittany. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," Santana rambled, keeping her gaze low.

Brittany gently cupped Santana's chin in her hand and raised the brunette's head so they were looking at one another. "You need to stop crying because when I see you upset it makes it really hard for me to be mad at you. And right now I _really _want to be mad at you. So stop."

"I'm just… I'm so – "

"Sorry. Yeah, I know. You've been saying that a lot to me today." Brittany let go of Santana and dropped her hand in her lap.

"Because I _am_ sorry! I am so fucking sorry! I have never been more sorry in my entire life! I regretted everything the _second_ I said it to you!"

"Then why did you say it?" Brittany whispered. All of the hurt from before came back full force and replaced the spot where her voice should have been.

Santana reached out and tried to hold Brittany's hands. At the burning touch of Santana's skin against her own, Brittany pulled away, leaving the brune stunned and confused.

"Brittany," Santana begged, "please. Don't be mad at me."

"It's a little too late for that."

"How many times do you want me to say I'm sorry before you stop being mad at me? Please, tell me. Whatever the number is I'll do it. I will say I'm sorry every second for the rest of my life if I have to."

Brittany sighed heavily while sprawling out on Puck's bed. She lied down with her back to Santana and rested her head on the inside of her elbow. "I don't need any more apologies from you, Santana. What I need is an explanation."

Her eyes began to prick violently and she squeezed them shut to block the tears. She refused to cry anymore. If she was going to hear what Santana had to say then she was going to do it with dry eyes. She was tired of crying and tired of looking so weak all the time.

Keeping her eyes closed, Brittany barely managed to get the words she wanted to say passed the lump in her throat. "_Why, _Santana? Why would you say something like that? Why would you say that when you know –"

Her words were halted by an arm draped suddenly across her stomach. With all the energy she exerted to fight back the tears that threatened to spew at any moment, Brittany hadn't realized Santana adjusted herself so she mirrored her position. Santana's chest was pressed firmly against her back and she could feel the smaller girl's heartbeat. As much as she hated to admit it, the familiar rhythmic beating of Santana's heart soothed her. Brittany was finding it more and more difficult to remain upset as Santana began to softly comb fingers through her hair.

But Brittany refused to simply forgive and forget. She was going to stand her ground and be pissed off unless she received a logical explanation for what happened.

"Just tell me _why_," she asked – begged – one more time. If she didn't hear it now Brittany was afraid of what the consequences held if she let the strain of waiting go on any longer.

"I don't know how."

"Try. That's what you came her to do, wasn't it? So try."

Silence filled the room until Santana's distressed voice rang out, "It _is_ all my fault."

"What is?"

Santana fell back onto the pillow and looked up at the ceiling. When the popcorn texture dissolved into one massive blur of white she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and groaned. She was thankful when Brittany didn't turn over to face her because she knew she couldn't handle seeing those blue eyes that had the power to disarm anyone.

"Everything!" she hollered. "Everything is my fault! It just all got so complicated so quickly and I didn't know how to handle it! I was scared and when I'm scared I get angry. And because I'm the worst fucking person on the planet I took that anger out on you. So it's my fault that you're hurting right now. It's my fault things got so fucked up with Artie and it's my fault that things are only going to get worse."

"How?"

"Because Artie is going to tell everyone that we're dating. He's pissed off at me because he thinks I took you away from him. So to get back at me he's going to tell the entire school that we're a couple and I can't have that happen."

"I thought you said you didn't care about going public with me." Anger tinted the edges of her voice.

"I did. I _don't_. I want people to know about us, but on our own terms. Don't you get it, Brittany? If we come out now then we'll just be thrown into lockers and beaten up all the time. And I can't let you go through that. Not again."

"I was fine then and I'll be fine now."

"Britt, Dave Karofsky broke your nose. You were not fine."

"Technically the side of the playscape broke my nose. Dave just pushed me into it."

"That's not the point!" Santana argued as she feverishly ran her hands across her face. "The point is you were put through hell because you were different! And that's exactly what's going to happen to you again if we come out before people are ready to accept us!"

Santana stopped to take a shaky breath. Her tears had returned full force, slipping out from the corners of her eyes and dropping silently onto the pillow below. "I just… I need you safe."

"I am safe," Brittany stated. "Because of you."

"Why can't you see that that's the problem? ! You're safe because _of me_. _I'm_ the reason you're like this. I spend so much energy trying to protect you that I never let you fend for yourself. And because of that I destroyed the person you could have become. Because of me it means that Artie, and the rest of the school, is going to destroy you too! IT'S ALL MY _FUCKING_ FAULT!"

Sobs now wracked Santana's body and she had to cover her face with her elbows to block out the rest of the world from seeing her as upset as she was. She felt the mattress shift beside her and delicate fingers trailed their way across her skin. Her arms were gently lifted from her face and Santana found herself looking up into the deepest blue eyes she ever saw.

"What did I tell you about crying?" Brittany reprimanded. "Stop it before I stop being mad at you."

Santana choked out a laugh, "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing!" Brittany huffed and plopped down next to Santana. She pressed her forehead against the smaller girl's and closed her eyes. "Stop apologizing and just explain."

"I have been," Santana whispered.

"No. You haven't. You haven't explained why you yelled at me or said the things you said."

The smaller girl blindly reached out with her left hand in search of Brittany's right. She found it with ease and interlocked their fingers. Santana held their conjoined hands to her heart and took a deep breath to gather her thoughts.

"I was angry, B. I'm always angry, you know that. But I've never been _this _angry. And after what Artie said to me before we left school I just became so _furious_ that it was like my body wasn't my own anymore. You know? It was like I was stuck inside my brain, forced to watch this new person take over. And I hated it. I hated the person that I had become today. I hated who I was more than I've hated anything else."

"Me too," Brittany so quietly it was almost impossible to hear.

But Santana heard it. Her breath hitched in her throat and she felt like the world was spinning. She knew Brittany was mad at her but she hadn't realized the blonde's anger was fueled by hatred. Brittany never said she hated something unless she meant it, and the fact that she hated Santana was too much for the brunette to handle.

Brittany watched a spectrum of emotions contort Santana's face until a single tear escaped her left eye and slid down her nose. But Brittany didn't move to wipe it away. Instead, she allowed Santana to experience the same crushing feeling she felt when her heart couldn't take the pain anymore.

"I do understand," Brittany confirmed quietly. "In a small way, I understand why you yelled at me to get in the car. Artie pissed you off and you were blowing off steam. I could have gotten over that. But then…" she stopped to calm herself when her voice cracked. Once she was confident enough she could continue without breaking down again she went on in a shaky voice, "Then you just _kept_ yelling at me. And then you said – "

"Don't. Please don't repeat it. I can't hear it coming from you. I had no right to say that to you and I didn't mean it."

"So why did you?" Blue eyes glistened as a layer of tears spread across the surface of Brittany's vision, but she still fought to keep them at bay.

"Because all I could think about was stupid Artie and what he said to me. I knew he was right and I thought, 'It's _my_ fault he's doing this. It's _my_ fault this is going to happen'! If I had just let you fight your own battles when we were kids then you wouldn't be in this fucked up mess now! You would know how to stand up for yourself without losing everything about you! And Artie's right! It will destroy _both_ of us! It will – "

"Hey," Brittany interrupted gently. "What did Artie say to you that hurt so badly?"

"Nothing," Santana sniffed, shaking her head. "It's not important."

"Yes it is. What did he say?"

"I just… I wish I could go back. I wish I could have protected you differently. I wish I could have kept you safe in a way that still let you learn how to handle things on your own. I just wish I wasn't so god damn _selfish_ all the time!"

"Hey, you are not selfish."

"Yes I am!"

"If you were selfish you wouldn't be feeling this horrible about what you said," Brittany tried to comfort, but to no avail.

"If I wasn't selfish I wouldn't have said those things in the first place! But I said them because I was only thinking of myself. The only thing I could think of was how much Artie pissed _me_ off, and how it was _my_ fault everything is happening, and how much _I_ wish things could have been different in the past if it meant things would be better today. I was only thinking about _myself_ and I hurt _you_ in the process. If that's not selfish then you need to tell me what is! Please! Because I would love to know!"

Brittany studied Santana's broken features. She had never seen her girlfriend this torn up and, despite how angry she was, the sight of Santana beating herself up wasn't sitting well in Brittany's stomach. She bit her lip and hoped what she was about to say next would make sense.

"Well then I guess you really are selfish," she shrugged.

Santana scrunched in confusion.

"Yeah, I mean thinking about everything you are probably _the_ most selfish person I've ever met."

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. Just listen. After you left the choir room when Rachel was mean to you, the rest of the group kept telling me that you were selfish and I agreed with them. I told them you were selfish for setting up that _amazing_ scavenger hunt for me and giving me one of the best days of my life. I told them you were selfish for always making nurses give you the shots first so that you can see if it was going to be too painful for me. I told them you were selfish for always coming to my house in the middle of the night to make sure that I'm not having a nightmare. I told them you were selfish because you refuse to leave my side if I do have a nightmare and that you hold me until I fall asleep again. So you're right. You are selfish."

Santana scrunched her brow further, "I don't get where you're going with this."

"You wanted to know if there was another way to be selfish. There is. I told you about the selfish Santana that I love. The Santana who is so selfish she always puts me first. I love _that _Santana. Not the one I saw today."

"And I _promise_, you will _never_ see her again."

Brittany sighed. The smile that had danced it's way across her lips while she spoke about the girl she loved disappeared completely. "We'll see."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we'll see."

"What about you and I? Are we okay?" Santana's voice was small and frightened, her brown eyes bulging with desperation.

"We'll see."

"Please…" Santana pleaded. "Don't – "

Brittany lightly pressed her lips against Santana's in an effort to soothe them both. She pulled away the second she felt a hunger build up in the pit of her stomach. The emptiness that took over from the lack of touch left Santana cold and frightened. She released Brittany's hand in order to wrap her arm around the taller girl's torso. Unable to resist, Brittany draped her own arm across Santana's and aimlessly ran her fingers up and down tan skin.

"We'll get through this, Santana. We always do."

With that statement, the weight of the day crashed down in a deafening silence that crushed the cheerleaders as they held each other. Neither one made an attempt to move. If they were going to smother to death, they were content with dying in the arms of the person they loved. They both knew their relationship took a major hit, but they also knew things were going to be okay. It was going to take a while, but they would get through it. They always did.

At least that's what Brittany tried convincing herself as she breathed in Santana's comforting scent.

_Cinnamon, _she thought with a smile. Santana's abuela always cooked with cinnamon and it became a symbol of assurance. Brittany knew that wherever there was cinnamon, there was protection. Despite any words that were spoken earlier, Brittany cherished Santana's protection more than anything. She needed it more than she needed her next breath. It killed her to know that from now on she was going to have to hide that fact from her girlfriend and pretend that she could take care of herself. But she knew if they were going to work things out between them then they were both going to have to make some changes.

They all were. All three of them were going to have to adjust to a set of new rules.

_Oops_, Brittany thought as she remembered the third party member still waiting patiently outside the room.

"We're good!" she called towards the door. "You can come in if you want."

Puck's awkward form materialized in the doorway. He stood uncomfortably still with his hands in his pockets, taking in the two girls on his bed, before he made his way over to join them. Carefully, he crawled over the cheerleaders and lied down on the other side of Brittany. Santana lifted her arm to allow Puck's to slide underneath hers until they were holding on to each other. The familiarity of tan arms shielding the blonde tugged at the corners of Puck's mouth until a grin emerged.

"It's been a long time since we've made a Brittany Oreo," he stated. "Feels good."

"Mmm," Santana hummed, her eyes closed.

"I'm gonna change too, B. Okay?" Puck whispered gently in Brittany's ear. "Santana isn't the only one to blame for what's happened. We all could have done things differently. But it's not too late. We can still fix this. And no matter what's happened, or what might happen, we're gonna stick together. We have to. I mean we're Cookies and Cream, right?"

Brittany nodded against Puck's chest. She grew concerned when she felt Santana's body tense against her own, but instantly relaxed when the brunette let out a giggle.

"Oh god," Santana groaned. "That's gotta be the _worst_ group name ever."

"Shut up," Puck scolded, slapping the back of Santana's head tenderly. "It's fucking _awesome_!"

"No. It's not!"

"I'd like you to come up with a better name!"

"Oh I absolutely can. I don't know _what_ we were thinking when we came up with that."

"We were six! You need to cut us some slack!"

"Well I love it," Brittany's innocent voice floated up from under her quarreling bodyguards. "I mean it makes perfect sense. I'm the cream and you guys are the cookies. You're the tough pieces that protect the soft pieces. That's me. But the soft pieces also cover the tough pieces to make them nicer and easier to chew."

Puck and Santana looked at each other in bewilderment before Santana smiled down at Brittany and said, "You're amazing. Did you know that?"

"Mhmm," Brittany nodded.

No other words were spoken for the rest of the night. After a few minutes of enjoying one another's presence the three friends fell sound asleep, grins dancing away across their soft features. The harsh reality of the day was forgotten as they settled back into their old routine. No matter how much hurt was in their wake, or how painful the future promised to be, the only moment in time that they cared about was this one. When they held on tightly to each other until sleep took over. When they were there, whole-heartedly, for one another no matter what was being thrown their way. When they forgot all about what clique they were in, their reputations, or looking good for an audience. When the rest of the world seemed like a meaningless speck of dust.

In that moment in time they were content with once again being Cookies and Cream where no amount of atmospheric pressure could sever the bond the tough pieces had with the soft pieces.

* * *

**Again, I am so sorry for the wait and I apologize if it wasn't worth reading this.**

**Also keep in mind that there are a lot of swears in this. Hopefully that doesn't offend anyone.**

**Please tell me what you thought!**


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